Slymph Happens
by clagjanet
Summary: Sundance #14 The Agency is getting coded messages about an attack on the president of San Cardenza but it takes Amanda to decipher the twisted plot.
1. Cracking Codes and Other Things

Amnesia stories... so many amnesia stories! I threw all my favorites into a blender and hope the ensuing smoothie of forgetfulness will amuse you.

As always, I intend no copyright infringement and the characters continue to be the property of their creators.

* * *

**_SLYMPH XLGF ZBN_**

"You know, I don't think I'm ever going to be able to make heads or tails of this cryptography stuff," lamented Amanda as she stared at the tiny slip of paper. "I don't even know where to start to understand this."

"It's not for everyone," agreed Efraim, "but for what you're going to be doing, you don't need to understand it, you just need to know it exists."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "Oh good, finally something I need to know."

Efraim smiled in sympathy. "And for this one, you have no possibility of cracking it without Agency computers and keys, anyway," he added.

"So what was everything you just told me?" she asked plaintively.

"Just a primer on what kind of codes there are," he answered. "At different times in the field, you might end up seeing any number of types of code: simple letter substitution, number substitution, keyword ciphers… There are lots of possibilities."

Amanda's confusion showed on her face. "But how will I know what they are?"

"You'll get more in depth stuff in your real classes as you continue on with Agency work," Efraim replied. "But at this stage, you just need to show some smarts about it."

"What kind of smarts?"

"Well, you're already getting training on some of the basics right? Simple tailing techniques, recognizing key words in other languages and whatnot, aren't you?" he waited for her nod. "But in order to qualify for the Station One classes, you'll need to do a series of tests ahead of time to show your general aptitude.'

"Station One? What's that?"

"It's an Agency training center," he answered. "They run you around a bunch of obstacle courses, teach you driving techniques, assess your abilities under pressure, that kind of stuff."

"So I have to qualify to go the place to qualify to do training?" Amanda asked, her brow wrinkling.

"In a manner of speaking." Efraim grinned at her. "But it's a bit of a foregone conclusion you'll go. Lee has suggested you take the courses, right? And Billy has always thought you were a good fit."

"He has?" Amanda looked pleased.

"He sure has. At least, he has when he's not busy complaining about your tendency to rush in without thinking or do things without telling him, or getting yourself kidnapped, or tied up or…"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" she interrupted him. "I'm always in trouble!"

"Not really," he said, laughing. "Sometimes it's Scarecrow that's in trouble."

"And I make it worse?"

"No, actually, quite the opposite," answered Efraim reflectively. "You really have an unerring knack of doing the right thing at the right time."

"Oh no," said Amanda, shaking her head. "You were right the first time – I'm always rushing in without thinking."

"Well, it's been successful so far," Efraim shrugged. "And training isn't any good if the person taking it isn't brave enough to use it. You just need to- "

"Be kept on a leash?" supplied Amanda, flippantly.

Efraim choked with laughter and held up his hands defensively. "Hey, I would never stoop to a bad K-9 squad joke about something like this. I was going to say you just need recognize better how to direct your instincts."

Amanda looked disheartened. "I do try not to get into trouble, you know, but things just seem to happen to me."

Efraim leaned forward on crossed arms and looked at her across the table, completely serious now. "Amanda, have you ever heard of something called the Bystander Effect?"

She shook her head. "Please tell me it's not going to be something about how me interfering in things makes them worse."

Efraim chuckled. "Quite the opposite. It's an odd bit of psychology that says that the more people are around, the less likely it is that someone will step in to help someone in trouble."

"What? That doesn't make any sense at all," she said.

"It really doesn't, does it?" he agreed. "And yet it happens all the time – on a crowded street, when someone gets mugged, or when someone has a heart attack, or anything like that, most people will do nothing because they assume someone else will step up and do something."

"Oh my gosh, that's just awful! I could never do that!" Amanda exclaimed.

"Oh believe me, we all know you couldn't," Efraim grinned at her. " It's the reason you helped Lee the day you met him and why you stayed with me that day Walt Kimball attacked the coffee shop instead of running away." He cocked his head to see if she was following what he was saying. "And some people would say you were crazy to get involved, but actually that's what makes you a good candidate for training – because your instinct is to do something when almost everyone else would simply stand back and not get involved."

"But that's just what anyone should do," she argued.

"They should, but most people don't," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "You see a problem and your first thought is how to solve it, even if it involves personal risk."

"Well, when you say it like that, it does sounds like I'm acting dumb – racing in without thinking," she complained.

"Not dumb, just impulsive. And that's where the training comes in – to help you see and mitigate the risks before you act."

"So that I don't rush in?"

"No, you'll still rush in," he said confidently. "You'll just be better prepared to do it less dangerously."

Amanda was silent, considering everything Efraim had said. "And this slymph thing is part of that?" she asked finally.

"Code breaking isn't usually a life-saving skill, so no, but on the other hand, I can think of nothing that would make Lee happier than finding out you have a genius for it that would keep you safely locked up in an office," he teased her.

"Really?" she asked, sounding a little hurt.

"No, not really," he said, moving swiftly to reassure her. "I think his favorite thing in the world is getting to pretend to be outraged later and telling everyone what you did and acting like he's not impressed."

"He's not impressed. He's never impressed," Amanda protested. "He's always annoyed."

"He's always worried after the fact, and annoyed that you could have been hurt" Efraim conceded, "but I was there when he held an entire room spellbound with a description of you taking down a Russian spy with nothing but a chocolate cake and a copy of War and Peace." He shook his head in amazement. "I wish I'd seen that."

"There was also a bedpan," admitted Amanda. "It was handy and I didn't have time to get anything better," she rushed on, in response to his stunned look.

Efraim gazed at her, a small smile chasing across his face. "You are going to knock 'em dead at Station One," he said finally.

"You think so?" Amanda looked genuinely pleased.

"I do. You see opportunities other people miss." He glanced up and nodded at something past her shoulder. "And here's our fearless leader now."

Amanda turned in her seat to watch Lee approaching. He was crossing the bullpen towards the meeting room where they were waiting, his long legs eating up the distance, and his long dark coat billowing behind him like a hero from a romantic novel. His normally perfectly coiffed hair was looking windblown and messy, which somehow unfairly made him even more attractive. She bit her lip and smiled inwardly – she'd known the man for months and was still taken aback occasionally at how good-looking he was. Most of the time she was used to it, he was just Lee but every so often, at moments like this, well, she took the opportunity to enjoy it. As he dodged his way through the desks, Lee looked up and saw them through the glass, his face lighting up with a warm grin that made her heart skip a beat.

"You look happy," Efraim greeted him as he walked in the room.

"Probably just the after effects of my mud wrap and eucalyptus steam," Lee remarked as he slid into the chair beside Amanda. "My contact at the spa wasn't there, but at least I got to enjoy myself so it wasn't a complete waste of time. Please tell me you're having a better day than I am. Did you get anything from the elevator guy?" he looked at Amanda hopefully.

"I don't think so," she shook her head. "He said the only thing he's heard about polo all week is that the Argentinian ambassador is seeing a little too much of his stable manager's wife if you know what he means." She paused when Efraim chuckled. "I assume that means what I think it means and not what you were hoping it means?"

"Yes," grunted Lee. "It means the ambassador is definitely having a much better week than I am."

"Well, I have something to cheer you up," said Efraim, pushing the piece of paper at him. "That came with my chili dog at Milo's."

Lee let out a muted whoop, then his brow furrowed. "What does it say?"

"It's in code, Scarecrow. At the moment it doesn't say anything," Efraim pointed out gently.

"I know it's in code," Lee spluttered. "But don't you know what it says?"

"I know this will come as a shock to you," Efraim answered. "But I haven't actually memorized every single code in the Agency. Even I draw the line at cluttering my brain up with things I don't need to." He turned to Amanda and went on in a conversational tone. "Did you know that Albert Einstein never bothered to learn his own phone number because he said if he ever needed to know it, he'd just look it up in the phone book?"

"He was in the phone book?" Amanda couldn't resist playing along, watching out of the corner of her eye as Lee's exasperation rose.

"He was. I guess 1950's Princeton was a pretty small town."

"Well, this isn't a very small town and I need to figure out what this means!" complained Lee, waving the piece of paper around.

"Oh for Pete's sake, just give it to me – I'll go pull it up on the computer," Efraim held out his hand and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Amanda, I'll show you how it's done."

Lee held out the slip, saying "Hey! No showing off, Hotshot. You have a girl already."

"And I have a girl who already knows her way around a code program," smirked Efraim as he got to his feet and took the paper. "But if you feel the need to impress Amanda, by all means, let's head to a computer and you can show us what you've got."

"You know those things hate me," groused Lee. "I'd probably end up setting off the nuclear launch codes if I tried."

"You can do that from here?" asked Amanda. "Oh my gosh, maybe I shouldn't work here after all. That sounds terribly dangerous."

"No, of course, you can't…" Lee trailed off as he realized she was laughing at him. "Very funny, Miss Not-Even-A-Fulltimer-Yet. Don't you know you're supposed to respect your superiors?"

"Superior?" snorted Efraim as he led the way across the bullpen to his desk. "Who's being a hotshot now?" He tapped away on the keyboard, pulling up the code files and logging in with a swipe of his employee pass. "Okay, let's see what we have here."

He typed in the first word. "S-L-Y-M-P-H is… ALABAM."

"Alabama?" said Amanda.

"No, oddly enough," Efraim scowled at the screen. "Just Alabam."

"Well, what on earth does that mean?" asked Lee.

"No idea. Let's see what the rest of it says. Okay, X-L-G-F means POLO, and Z-B-N comes out as GAS."

"Gas?" questioned Lee. "What does Polo De Gregorio have to do with gas?"

Efraim pulled up a new screen and continued typing. "There's a luxury airplane sales and maintenance company called Alabam out at Dulles – maybe they're going to do something when his plane is refueled?"

"Phillip put sugar in Dean's gas tank once," commented Amanda. "It was never the same after that."

"I don't think a couple of spoonfuls of sugar is going to do much damage to a passenger jet," laughed Lee. "But the question is, what would? And what's the connection of this company to the rebels? Are they enemies of De Gregorio or are they being used without knowing it and this is just alerting us to where the rebels aim to infiltrate security? Maybe they're planning to hijack it?"

"All good questions," said Efraim. "So where are you going to start?"

"With a thorough background check on Alabam, I think."

Lee reached for the slip of paper beside Efraim's keyboard but managed to knock it off the table instead. As he leaned to pick it up, Amanda did the same and their foreheads cracked together.

"Ow," she shrieked, stumbling forward and clapping a hand to her forehead where it hurt.

Lee reached to steady her with one hand, while he pressed his other hand against his own head. "Amanda, I'm so sorry! Are you-?" As he leaned in to check on her, she straightened up, cracking the top of her head against his jaw. As he yowled in pain, she sprawled backwards, landing on the floor with a wince. She sat for a moment, trying to catch her breath before attempting to stand up again, instantly deciding against it when she saw stars and letting herself bump gently back onto the floor.

Lee, meanwhile, had fallen back against the desk and was holding his jaw, his eyes closed against the smarting pain.

The whole thing had taken only a few seconds, so it took Efraim a beat to take it all in before he dropped out of his chair and knelt beside Amanda.

"Holy cow!" he exclaimed, running a hand over her scalp to check for injuries. "I hope that sounded worse than it felt!"

"How did it sound?" groaned Amanda.

"Like one of Rocky Balboa's training sessions," he answered, wincing as he found the rapidly growing goose egg on the top of her head.

"Well, it felt worse than that," she answered. She managed to lift her head enough to squint at Lee who was still braced against the desk looking dizzy and moving his jaw tentatively as if he wasn't sure what had happened. "Are you okay, Lee?"

He ran a hand over his temple, then looked down at her through cloudy eyes. "I think so. Everything seems to still be attached but I think my teeth may be in a different order than they were a few seconds ago. I know I've complained about you being hard-headed, but you didn't have to prove it."

"At least you're upright," she grumbled.

Lee moved to bend to help her up, but turned grey and leaned back against the desk. "Sorry, but it might take me a few minutes to help you with that. Otherwise I'll just end up joining you down there."

"So now there's a rule that only one of us can be down here?" grumbled Amanda, as she sat with her hands pressed against her head.

"Neither of you should be down there." Efraim stood back up and gently helped Amanda to her feet, before pushing her to sit down in his empty chair. She gave a little groan as she leaned back and closed her eyes.

"Can someone please make the room stop spinning?" she asked.

"And get the floor to stop moving?" Lee added.

Efraim looked at his friends with growing concern. "I think the two of you should both get checked out in the clinic."

Lee waved him off immediately. "Don't be ridiculous. I've been punched by bad guys harder than that."

"I haven't," muttered Amanda. "Ow!" she gasped as Efraim prodded the goose egg.

"No, seriously. That sounded really bad," he said.

"It was just loud because Scarecrow's head is hollow," sniped Amanda, tentatively straightening up.

"There, see?" said Lee. "We're fine – she's already insulting me."

"Except she doesn't usually insult you," Efraim pointed out. "So that's a point for me. You should both get checked for concussion."

Lee glared at him blearily. "Well, you can still forget it. I've been through that stupid concussion protocol so many times I could do it in my sleep."

"You're not supposed to sleep when you have a concussion," said Amanda in a tart tone.

Lee pointed at her triumphantly. "See? She knows it too! No need for us to go getting poked by doctors since we're both obviously thinking clearly."

"That's debatable," replied Efraim. "Amanda? Come on and get checked out. If you go, he'll go."

"Cheap shot," snarked Lee.

Amanda gave herself a small shake and looked around the room, blinking. "No, I think Lee's right actually. Now that the first wave has passed, I just feel sore – the doctors have more important things to do with their time than tell me how to put a bag of frozen peas on my head."

Efraim rolled his eyes. "Fine, but then you shouldn't stay here. You'll get distracted into doing work and that's the last thing you need."

"He's right," agreed Lee. "There's no reason for you to stay here anyway, especially if you're not feeling well."

"Oh no, I'm fine," she protested. "And I can help, as long as I'm not running around."

"Well you won't be running around if you go home," Lee pointed out. "And I don't need your help."

"That's not true – you needed me this morning when I went to talk to the elevator guy," said Amanda with a hurt expression.

"Yeah, but that was just to save me some time," said Lee. "I didn't really think he'd have anything and I knew it wouldn't be dangerous."

"So you just sent me because it was a boring little thing you couldn't be bothered with?" asked Amanda. "Because you wanted to have extra time for your - what did you say? - eucalyptus steam?"

"Yes," he replied with unfortunate honesty due to his pounding head.

"So, first you think I should be taking some of the recruitment classes and now you think I can only be trusted with things you think are beneath you?" Her voice started to rise, but that hurt her head too much and by the end she was wincing.

"Yes, I mean, no, not like that," Lee attempted to defend himself but he was still feeling dizzy after their collisions and his response time was lagging. "There are things you're better suited for, that's all." He missed Efraim shaking his head in despair at the way this argument was going.

"Well if you don't think I'm capable of even making a few phone calls for you, I don't know why you'd think I could do that Station One place!"

"Now hang on a minute! Station One? What idiot said you were going to Station One?" asked Lee. "You haven't even done the basic civilian training classes yet."

"I said that," interrupted Efraim. "It's the obvious step – once she's done that training," he added, turning to Amanda. "Sorry if I made you think it was imminent."

"Well, it sure as hell isn't imminent!" interjected Lee. "You've only been working here four months – you shouldn't be thinking about that at all!" he stuttered to a halt at the expression on Amanda's face. "I mean, not yet!"

"When I say that kind of thing to the boys, it really means 'never'," commented Amanda bitterly. "You said I'd be good at this. You said I could be like a partner!"

"And you will be! You are!" Lee backpedaled. "I just didn't mean right away – I mean, come on, you just almost knocked yourself out standing by a desk! Can you imagine how much more dangerous it is out in the real world?"

"Yes. I can," she responded in an icy tone. "Because I have been out there with you! And when I was, I was helpful! And besides – you're also standing there with a cut on your chin and loose teeth and I don't see Billy telling you that the outside world is too dangerous for you!"

She turned to look at Efraim. "You know what? You were right. I should go home and find that bag of frozen peas and an aspirin. Suddenly I feel like I wouldn't very helpful here today after all."

Efraim gave a curt nod of approval. "I'll drive you there."

"Oh now you're just being silly!" she exclaimed, tossing her hands in the air. It's a tiny bump on the head…"

"Two bumps. Two large bumps," interrupted Efraim.

"Two tiny bumps and maybe a little headache," she amended as she pushed herself up and out of the chair. "You don't need to leave work and drive me home, just because I'm having a klutzy day."

Efraim held up a finger in front of her face. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He began moving it back and forth.

Amanda automatically followed it with her eyes. Almost immediately, it started to make her feel dizzy and she gave an annoyed snort and reached out to grab it. "Stop! Just stop! I'm fine and I just need to go home and get away from you and this nonsense! Honestly, Phillip and Jamie are less annoying than you are when you get a bone to gnaw on!"

"I don't know how you did it, Scarecrow, but you've turned a once sweet and charming lady into a copy of you as a bad patient," said Efraim, sadly. "I hope you're proud of yourself."

"Amanda," Lee interrupted guiltily. "Maybe he's right, maybe you should get checked out."

"Are you going to get checked out?" she shot back. "No, I didn't think so," she said when he took too long to answer. "Just stop nagging, both of you. I'm fine!"

"Well, at least let me walk you to your car," said Efraim.

"I'll walk with her," said Lee, quickly. "I caused all this, it's the least I can do." When Amanda looked like she was going to argue, he held up a hand. "I have to go chat with Crawford up in the Q Bureau anyway – see if this Alabama place is in any of his files. They might already be on his radar if they're some kind of front."

"Alabam," corrected Efraim. "Need me to write it down? Maybe your memory got jogged loose, just like your teeth."

"Very funny," Lee glowered at him. "Watch and see how much I'm laughing next time you hurt yourself."

"I very sensibly stay behind a desk and out of trouble," said Efraim. "Oh wait, that's right – you just knocked yourself on your ass doing exactly that, didn't you?"

"Definitely worse than Phillip and Jamie," Amanda scolded them as she stood up. "I'm leaving before the two of you get to the childish name-calling." She headed for the bullpen door, and only someone watching carefully would notice how gingerly she was moving.

The two men looked guilty and Lee scrambled to catch up with her, sliding his hand to the small of her back as support. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. "I'm sorry about what I said. You will be great at the classes, you know – I was just taken by surprise at hearing you're already planning ahead to Station One. I thought you could ease into it all more slowly, you know?"

"I'm fine," she answered, sounding weary. "And I'm sorry too. I mean I only even heard about Station One when Efraim mentioned it while we were waiting for you. You're right about taking the time to train, I just overreacted – probably because I have a headache coming on." She lifted a hand to her temple and touched it gently, but still winced even at that light touch. "Your head is ridiculously hard"

"You are not the first to say that," he answered with a faint chuckle. "My uncle, for one, would say that you could have discovered that a lot less painfully just by looking at my report cards."

"I don't believe that," she gave him a sideways look. "No one gets this far in the Agency without their fair share of smarts."

"Oh my grades were fine," said Lee, pressing the elevator button. "I could just never resist arguing with every one of my teachers."

"Why does that not surprise me?" she asked, ducking under the coats as she stepped into the elevator. "Oh my," she added as she straightened up on the far side of the clothes and the elevator started to move. She had gone a little pale and put a hand out to brace herself against the wall of the car.

"Amanda, are you sure you're alright?" asked Lee, reaching out to take her free arm.

"It's nothing. I just moved too quickly," she said. "And it's warm in here. I'll feel better when I get out into the fresh air."

Lee looked at her doubtfully – he didn't find it warm but he'd heard about women having hot flashes. He thought that was usually older women, but for all his dating history, he'd managed to avoid learning much on that topic.

The elevator shuddered to a stop at the Georgetown lobby level and he followed her out into the reception area.

"You're sure you don't need a ride home?" he asked again.

"I'm sure!" she snapped before taking in a deep breath and speaking more calmly. "You don't even need to walk me to my car. I just need to go home and take some aspirin and I'll call you in the morning, okay?"

"Okay," he replied, worried frown on his face. "But make that call when you get there, will ya?"

"When did you turn into such a worrywart?" Amanda smiled at him.

"When I met a woman who always acts without thinking," he responded. "And then ends up in trouble."

"Funny, Efraim was just saying that about me too. And here I thought I was just a boring suburban mom all this time."

"Never boring," quipped Lee. "I have never once complained that you're boring. But call me anyway, will ya?"

"Uh huh," said Amanda. "If it will make you feel better."

"That and a bottle of aspirin will make me feel a lot better," he answered, turning to walk up the stairs towards the upper offices.

Amanda turned to head out the door, only to be called back by the peremptory tones of Mrs. Marston the receptionist.

"Mrs. King," she said, look at her over the top of her spectacles. "Haven't you forgotten something?"

Amanda looked confused. "Oh my gosh – are we supposed to know the password to get out as well? Because if we are, I'm afraid I don't know it. Or is it the same as the one to get in? Today's was…" She stopped and concentrated but couldn't think of anything past the creeping pain of her burgeoning headache. "Saucepan?" she hazarded.

"No. Mrs. King," said Mrs. Marston sternly, holding out her hand. "You have forgotten to turn in your guest badge."

"Oh! Of course!" Amanda fumbled with the fastener and handed it over with an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry- I butted heads with Mr. Stetson downstairs and it's left me a little lightheaded."

Mrs. Marston turned her head to look at Lee who had stopped on the landing to enjoy the show. "You are hardly the first woman to say that, I'm sure."

Amanda blinked, not certain whether the older woman was joking or not. "No, I'm sure I'm not." She looked up at Lee, who gave her a wink. She smiled at them both in turn and walked out the front door.

She paused on the doorstep, thinking back over the argument she'd had with Lee downstairs. It had been a silly one, and he had apologized, but part of her was left wondering if he really thought she'd never be a real agent. He'd been so encouraging just a few weeks before but now it seemed like he was rethinking that. "What made him change his mind?" she asked out loud.

She had been feeling overly warm inside and for a moment, the feel of the wintry air on her face was a relief. Then, in a heartbeat, the wave of heat and nausea returned and everything went black.


	2. Blanks for the Memory

"Mr. Stetson! Come quick!"

Lee had barely walked through the door at the top of the stairs when he heard Mrs. Marston's shocked cry and he ran back out onto the landing, his eyes sweeping the lobby for danger. The receptionist was up from her desk and running to the door, glancing up at him when he appeared.

"Mrs. King – I saw her on the outside camera…" She wrenched the door open and ran outside; Lee took the stairs in two huge leaps and followed her. His heart almost stopped as he saw Amanda in a heap on the front path.

"What happened?" he said, running to where Mrs. Marston was already crouched down, reaching to check her pulse.

"I don't know!" she exclaimed. "She walked outside, she stopped, she swayed and then she just went down like a ton of bricks! It was like she'd been shot. Oh my goodness, she hasn't been shot, has she?"

Lee had already run his hands over Amanda quickly to determine exactly that. "No," he answered tersely. "I think it's just a delayed reaction the bump she got on her head downstairs." He lifted Amanda in his arms and carried her back into the lobby. "Can you call down to the med lab and get someone up here to check her over?"

Mrs. Marston bustled back to her desk, punching in the numbers and demanding medical help like a sergeant major. Lee settled Amanda onto the settee under Harry Thornton's portrait and began lightly tapping her cheek. "Come on, Amanda, wake up."

To his dismay, there was no response – her face remained unnaturally still and reminded him far too much of that night at James Delano's mansion. He glanced up at Harry's portrait, meeting the clear blue eyes that seemed to be looking at him sympathetically. Mrs. Marston crouched down beside him, now armed with a handkerchief she had dampened, and began to dab it along Amanda's forehead.

"Is that bruise from where she bumped it?" she asked. "That looks nasty, the poor little dear."

Lee glanced sideways at the receptionist, surprised at the concerned tone. Mrs. Marston turned to meet his eyes and shrugged.

"I may have to be stern with people, Mr. Stetson, but that doesn't mean I don't like them," she said in a lofty tone. "And Mrs. King is always very kind and polite, even to people most others ignore."

Lee instantly felt guilty, wondering if he'd ever been unwittingly rude to Mrs. Marston. He silently took the handkerchief from her and took over the task of running it along Amanda's cheeks. "Where the hell is that medic?" he muttered.

As if on cue, the elevator door opened and Dr. Burke stepped out. "I hear you need a doctor up here?"

Lee blenched. "Not your kind of doctor! I mean, no offense, Doc, but you're a pathologist and Amanda is just unconscious, not dead!"

"None taken," said Dr. Burke genially as Mrs. Marston moved away to make room for him. He put down his bag and knelt beside Lee. "Funnily enough though, my medical school made us start on live patients first, so I'm sure I can still be of help here. You said on the phone she seemed to just faint for no reason? He lifted Amanda's wrist and checked her pulse. "That seems strong enough." He looked at Lee. "Any idea why she would have fainted? Pregnant perhaps?"

"No!" exclaimed Lee immediately and a little too loudly. "No, I mean, I don't think so. She's not dating anyone as far as I know." He caught the look that went between the doctor and Mrs. Marston. "She bumped her head downstairs. Twice actually. She was headed home to put an ice pack on it and get some rest."

Dr. Burke rolled his eyes. "What is it with you people and the self-medicating?" He continued to examine her before saying, "There's a third bump here on the back of her head – she probably got that one when she fainted." He chafed Amanda's wrist and tapped her cheeks. "I really don't like that she's not coming to," he said, carefully prying open an eyelid, then the other and peering at Amanda's pupil. "Mavis, could you please call for an ambulance?"

"An ambulance?" asked Lee incredulously. "We have a clinic downstairs!"

"We have a morgue, a lot of labs and an excellent first aid room downstairs," Dr. Burke corrected him. "What we don't have is specialized medical equipment like a CT machine to see why she isn't regaining consciousness or if there's an underlying reason that made her faint in the first place. And on top of that, we shouldn't be wasting time taking her back downstairs only to have to move her to a hospital later if it comes to that." Lee opened his mouth to protest, but the doctor held up his hand. "And if all that wasn't enough, she's a civilian, so we're going to have to call her family, and we can't be dragging them downstairs, now can we?"

"I suppose not," said Lee, grumpily. "But I'm going with her."

"Of course you are," said Dr. Burke. "Someone has to."

He moved over to Mrs. Marston's desk and dialed. A few seconds later, Lee could hear him giving curt directions over the phone, and relaxed slightly knowing more help was on the way. He took Amanda's hand – much too cold to the touch – and held it between his. "You said you were fine," he whispered to her. "You are going to be in so much trouble when you wake up. And not just from me – you know Beaman's going to show up just to say he told you so." He paused and ran a finger down her cheek, praying for any kind of reaction. "If you wanna wake up now, you can fight with me some more about training. I won't mind, I swear."

Despite his promise, Amanda didn't respond, remaining pale and still. Lee looked up at the doctor who gave him a pat on the shoulder, then continued to check Amanda over for other injuries.

"Don't worry so much, Scarecrow. It's just a couple of bumps on the head, maybe a light concussion. She doesn't seem to have hurt anything else in the fall and she'll probably be back up and at 'em by tomorrow."

"Do you think so?" Lee asked, hopefully.

"Well nothing's ever 100 percent certain," said Burke, "But none of these bumps are likely to be lethal. Just painful." He prodded around some more. "What did she hit her head on anyway?"

"On me," said Lee, pointing to the bruise on his own forehead. "And then on me again," he added, lifting his head to show the small split in the skin on the underside of his chin.

"I won't ask," said Burke, shaking his head. "I can only assume she was trying to knock some sense into you, headfirst."

Lee ignored him, turning his head at the sound of an approaching siren. Ten minutes later, the paramedics had Amanda loaded up, and once again Lee found himself in the back of an ambulance, hurtling through the streets, holding Amanda's hand, and praying she'd be alright.

* * *

Amanda opened her eyes slowly and squinted around the room in confusion.

"Why am I in a hospital?" she croaked, but there was no one else in the room to answer her. She lifted the blankets but couldn't see anything wrong, except for the ugly hospital gown. She let the blanket drop and wriggled her fingers and toes, still finding no reason why she'd be here. Frustrated, she went to sit up and realized with a gasp of pain exactly what the problem was. She fell back against the pillow and lifted her hands to her head, carefully running them around her scalp until she found all the bumps that were radiating pain through her head.

"What on earth happened to me?" she muttered. She had just begun to look around for the call button, when the door opened and a man in a white coat came in.

"Ah, there we are," he said. "You're awake at last." He came closer and reached to check her pulse. "I'm Dr. Calhoun, and we've been quite worried about you. Now, what can you tell me about yourself? Can you tell me your name?"

"Well, of course I can," she said. "It's…" she stopped, suddenly feeling panicked. "It's… Oh my gosh, I don't know who I am!"

"Now, now, calm down," said the doctor in a perfect soothing bedside manner voice. "We know who you are – but you have bumped your head so you might just be feeling a bit off center. Your name is Amanda King. Does that sound familiar?"

She concentrated on that, and considered it carefully. "I think so?" she said, finally. "But how did I bump my head? How did I end up here? Why can't I remember, well, anything?"

"So you still don't remember anything about your accident?" asked the doctor, carefully writing notes on her file. "You were pretty confused when you woke up earlier."

"I don't remember anything!" she wailed. "Not my name, not where I live, not…" She stopped dead and tried to think of anything at all from the time before she woke up here. "I don't even know if I have a family! Am I married?"

The doctor patted her hand. "Oh yes, you're Mrs. King."

She held up her hands. "I'm married but I don't wear a wedding ring?" She tried unsuccessfully to recall how she bumped her head. "Or was it stolen? Was I mugged? Is that how I got hurt? And how do you know who I am? How did I get here?"

The doctor looked taken aback at the rapid-fire interrogation. "Those are all good questions, Mrs. King, and I can only answer a few of them. You were brought in by ambulance, but you were accompanied by your husband – he'll be able to answer the rest."

"My husband is here?" she asked, wide-eyed. She had no idea why that should surprise her, but for some reason, it did.

"You can talk to him in a moment – he's waiting outside," said Calhoun. "But first, we're just going to give you a complete check. Let me just go call a nurse."

He walked to the door and stuck his head out, then stepped out slightly, looking up and down the hall. With the door open, she could suddenly hear a raised voice in the hallway outside her room.

"What do you mean you haven't called yet?"

There was a quieter voice answering and she strained to hear, but couldn't make out the response.

"They'll be looking for her, Scarecrow!" said the first voice. "It's been hours and at some point they'll start calling around to hospitals if they haven't heard from her! Why on earth wasn't that your first phone call?"

Now the second voice got loud enough for her to hear as he argued back. "Because I was hoping to avoid this whole thing getting out of the bag! If we could just take care of her and get her out of here without them finding out, it would save a lot of explanations!"

"Did you think they wouldn't notice if she got delivered back to them in this state? If they weren't suspicious yet, they would be after that!"

"Well, I didn't want them to find out while she was still out of it – I mean, that would set off way too many alarm bells, wouldn't it? And what am I going to say? 'Sorry I whacked her on the head a few times?' What if she woke up and told them some complete other story? You know she lies automatically about stuff like that! I just thought it would be better if we kept quiet until we know what's going on!"

The voices softened again and she couldn't hear anything intelligible now.

"Why would me being here have to be a secret?" she wondered, frowning and then wincing when her frown made the goose egg on her forehead throb with pain.

"Doc? Is she awake? Can I see her?" It was the second voice and he sounded worried, although after what he'd said earlier, she wasn't sure if he was worried about her or himself.

Despite his protests, the doctor was pushed aside and a man slipped in. "It's ok! She's awake!" he said to whoever was still in the hallway.

A second man followed him in, pushing the doctor back into the hall and muttering "Just give us a few minutes – we need to interview her first, you understand, don't you?" before closing the door and leaning back against it.

The first man was paying no attention to any of that, walking toward her, holding out his hand.

Amanda held her breath and stared – was it possible that this was her husband? He was smiling and she didn't think she could remember ever seeing such a dazzlingly handsome man. As her mind raced, she realized she couldn't remember meeting anyone before, but then she recalled one of the things the voice outside her room had said – was this the one who'd said he'd whacked her on the head? Was he the reason she was here?

"Amanda? How are you?" he asked. "Thank goodness you're awake! We were starting to get worried."

She pushed herself more upright, pressing back against the pillow, and stared at him with a wary expression. "Do I know you?"

The man paused, jaw slack for a moment, then gave a rueful laugh. "Ha! That's a good one – you had me going there for a second."

"No, really," she insisted. "I don't know who you are. Either of you!"

"Cut it out, Amanda! I know you're just getting a little revenge for our fight this morning, but this isn't funny!" he said, his voice sharper now, and the smile dimming.

"I'm not trying to be funny! I don't remember anything, not about you, not about me, not about anything!" Her voice rose as she went on, breaking on the last word.

"You're serious," said the man leaning on the door. "You don't know us?"

"No! Who are you? Are you the reason I'm here?" She looked back at the foot of her bed.

The blinding smile was completely gone now, replaced by a guilty look.

"I suppose I am, but let me explain…"

"The doctor said you're my husband." Her gaze shifted to look at the man by the door who had just barked out a laugh, and then tried to cover it with a cough. He was almost as tall, but more gangly, with glasses and a worried smile. For some reason, he just seemed… nice and she liked him. She couldn't explain it, it just felt like a gut feeling.

_Then again, I don't know if my gut feelings are usually good or not._

She gave off a slightly hysterical giggle and looked back at the first man. He had the same worried look but she wasn't sure that nice was the right word for him. He looked like he was leashing in his emotions, trying to appear calm when he wasn't. He looked ruffled, like a cat on edge.

"So are you?" she asked. "Am I married to you?"

He paced a few steps closer to the bed, stopping when she held up her hands defensively. "No, we're not married. I just told them that so they'd let me in here."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you need to get in here? You said you were the reason I'm in here. I heard you out in the hallway - you said we had a fight and that you hit me and for all I know, you're lying to the doctor about who you are - and I think maybe I should be calling security."

She reached for the call button and both men leapt forward, exclaiming "No!" at the same time. She held the button up like it was the trigger for a bomb and they stopped dead.

"Okay, you start explaining or I start pushing," she said, sounding much braver than she felt.

They two men exchanged a look, then it was the first one – her not-husband – who inched closer and began to speak.

"Amanda, it's okay, I swear. We're not crazy and we're not dangerous. We're your friends."

"My friends? Friends who were just talking about keeping it a secret that I'm in here and who said they whacked me on the head and put me in here?"

Another shocked look from both men. "Oh no, that makes it sound much worse than it is," said Mr. Nice. "We're your friends, I swear."

"You're doing a lot of talking, but I'm still not hearing a lot of explaining," she said, waving the call button threateningly.

Mr. Not-Husband looked behind him to make sure the door was closed, then dropped his voice. "The thing is, Amanda… we're intelligence agents and no one is supposed to know you work for us."

"Intelligence agents? You mean I'm a spy?" she gasped.

"No, oh no!" he said. "You're a sort of a…" he trailed off and looked at the other man for help.

"A sort of helper is the best way to describe it," said Mr. Nice. "You help us out with stuff, but no one knows that. Your family think you work for a film company but that's just a front. You actually work for the Agency."

"The Agency?" she repeated, testing out the sound of that to see if it rang any bells. "You mean the CIA?"

"No, not the CIA," said Mr. Nice, hurriedly. "We're different from them. Very, very different."

Amanda considered that for a moment before giving them another suspicious look. "You still haven't told me who you are or how I ended up here."

The Not-Husband looked honestly pained at the question. "Amanda, it's me… Lee… Lee Stetson," he added when she looked at him blankly. "Come on, you know me," he pleaded. His distress was contagious and she felt her resolve not to trust him wavering.

"And I'm Efraim Beaman," said Mr. Nice, stepping forward to hold out his hand. "And you're here because you bumped your head a few times at work today and well, one thing led to another and now you're here."

"And how exactly did I bump my head?" she asked.

"Not just you," said Lee, pointing to the bruise on his temple. "We bumped heads; it was all an accident, I swear."

"Well, you would say that, wouldn't you?" she pointed out. "If it was your fault?" She let the hand that was holding the call button drop back onto the bed and let out a long sigh. "I just don't know if I believe you – it sounds crazy." She thought of something else and pointed at Lee. "So if you're not my husband, where is my real husband? Do I have one or was that a lie too?"

"He's somewhere in Africa, I think," said Lee, shooting a helpless look at Efraim. "Ethiopia? Eritrea?"

"Estoccia," said Efraim.

"Well, isn't that handy for your little story?" she said sarcastically. "You don't want anyone to know I'm here and I'm leading a secret spy life of some kind and my husband is on another continent?"

"He's your ex-husband, if that helps," said Efraim.

"I'm sure I don't know why that would help," she replied. "None of this helps! Nothing you're saying makes sense! And it's making my head hurt!" She dropped her face in her hands and took a deep breath. "I think I'd like you to leave now," she said, finally, looking up at them. "You're just confusing me more with all these stories that I don't even believe and my head hurts and I want to be alone."

"Okay, we'll go," said Efraim, putting a hand on Lee's shoulder when it looked like he was going to argue. "But we'll call your mother and let her know where you are. Just make sure you don't tell her anything about us."

"I have a mother?" she asked. "I mean, obviously I have a mother, everyone has a mother, but I have a mother that you know to call?"

"Yes, and she'll be wondering why you're not home for dinner by now."

"I live with my mother?" she asked, incredulously. "I'm a divorced woman who lives with her mother? And I'm a spy?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I don't believe any of this."

"You don't live with your mother, she lives with you. And your sons," said Lee.

Amanda stared at him, jaw dropping. "Okay, that's it. Get out. Get out now. I don't know who you are and why you're lying to me but your lies are getting more ridiculous by the second."

"They're not lies!" exclaimed Lee. "Everything we've sad is the honest-to-God truth!"

"Oh really? I have a live-in mother and children and a husband halfway around the world and yet somehow, in between PTA meeting and soccer practice, I just happen to be a spy as well?" she shot back. "I'm sure you have a reason to lie about this, but I want you to get out and leave me alone and let me figure it out by myself!" She snatched up the call button and pressed it firmly.

"Okay, I think we should leave," said Efraim, grabbing Lee's arm and pulling him back towards the door. "We're obviously making it worse and I'm sure Amanda will be just fine. Right, Scare-… Lee?"

Lee looked like he wanted to argue but after another look at Amanda and the way she looked like she was about to burst into tears, he decided that a strategic retreat was indeed the best idea. "We'll check on you later, okay?"

"Get out!" she all but yelled and watched as they scuttled out, the door not even closing before the doctor re-entered, followed by a nurse.

"Oh dear, did your husband upset you somehow?" he asked, as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "People do get so irrationally angry when their loved ones can't remember them; they seem to take it so personally. If he'd given me time, I would have explained to him that amnesia cases can be emotionally complicated and that getting angry is rarely helpful to the patient, but I do hope he didn't take that out on you. And I wouldn't even have let that other man in at all except that he had a badge."

"He did?" Amanda sniffled. "What kind of badge?"

"Oh, I never look at them too closely, I have to admit," chuckled the doctor nervously. "There's so many of them to try and keep track of here in DC – police, Secret Service, CIA, FBI… the KGB could probably wave a badge around here and I'd just wave them through!"

Amanda gave him a strained smile. "That doesn't sound very secure to me."

"Well, I don't think you need to be anxious that he was anything like that," he laughed off her concern. "He and your husband just both seemed very worried about you and really seemed to want to just get you better and out of here as quickly as possible. Your husband was most upset when I said you'd have to stay in overnight for observation."

"Was he?" responded Amanda. "He said that to me too – that he wanted to get me out of here as quickly as possible. I wonder what his rush is."

She fell silent as the doctor bustled around taking her pulse and checking her over, speaking when asked a direct question but otherwise consumed with so many questions she simply couldn't answer.

Eventually the doctor was done and the nurse fussed around her for a few moments, straightening the covers and double checking the bandages the doctor had just applied.

"There you go, Mrs. King," she said finally. "Those pain killers should kick in shortly. Don't worry if they make you feel a bit loopy, they're intended to relax you so your blood pressure stays down. I'll come back later with another one in case you need it. Now, here's the call button if you need me and this is the remote for the TV, but you shouldn't be watching that anyway, not with your concussion. Nothing stimulating for at least 24 hours."

"Thank you," Amanda answered, leaning back into her pillows, grateful that she was finally going to be left alone to think about her day and to try and remember anything about herself. It was no good though; she tossed and turned on the uncomfortable hospital bed, until she decided to give up, sitting up and grabbing the remote.

"How stimulating could television be compared to some crazy man trying to convince you you're a spy?" she argued with herself, pressing the on switch. She flipped around the dial, nothing catching her interest since everything seemed to be an ad. She had just changed channels when she realized with a shock that she had just recognized someone on the last channel. Not in a "recognizing a famous person" way but actually recognized. She flipped it back and stared in wonder. It was just an ad for the local news channel and the weatherman, but she felt a small frisson of joy.

"Dean Maguire," she whispered, oddly emotional at finally feeling like she wasn't completely alone in the world. "I think I know Dean Maguire." She stared at the familiar face and tried to concentrate. "But how do I know him?"

She turned the TV off as the ad finished with the jingle playing and the announcer delivering the tag line "Join us tonight with the number one team on the number one station in Northern Virginia!" She lay back on the pillow, feeling just a little bit better. If she recognized one person, surely it was just a matter of time before she remembered other people? Maybe she'd remember that Lee Stetson fellow who'd just been in here or maybe… She frowned as parts of their conversation returned. He'd said she had children, sons he'd said, and the other one, what was his name? Something old fashioned… Efraim. He'd dragged him out of the room after he told her that – was it because it was a lie? She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes – why, why, why couldn't she remember anything?

* * *

Down the hall in the visitors' lounge, Lee and Efraim were arguing in ferocious whispers in deference to it being a hospital.

"Why did you make me leave? I could have gotten through to her, I know it!" Lee glared daggers at him.

"You weren't getting through to her! You were just making her blood pressure rocket and you should know better than anyone that the last thing you need when you have a concussion is to get more stressed than you already are!" Efraim argued right back. "What's the first thing they told you when you were out of it that time? Don't push, just let it come back naturally."

Lee's shoulders sagged in defeat. "She looked at me like I was the enemy!"

"Not the enemy," Efraim said soothingly. "Just the guy who was giving her more information than she could process. She doesn't know her own name and you're delivering her entire life story in five minutes – she just couldn't cope."

"She thought I was the one who hurt her!"

"Well, she did hear you say you whacked her one, so that's no surprise. Now look," he went on as Lee got more dejected looking, "You know what these things are like – they'll keep her in overnight, she'll get good care and rest and she'll probably wake up in the morning, remember everything, and laugh at what a fuss we made about this whole thing."

"You're probably right," sighed Lee. "And you were right about how I should have called her mother right away. When she does remember, Amanda is going to kill me if we've let her worry at all."

"Actually…" Efraim responded. "I'm beginning to think we shouldn't do that."

Lee looked at him in patent disbelief. "You're kidding, right? Of course we have to tell her mother!"

"I think we should tell her something, just not this," Efraim clarified. "Amanda doesn't recognize us, doesn't know anything about her life – it looked like she didn't even believe us that she had a family at home. You know what Mrs. West is like; if she comes swooping in here now, think of the damage that could cause. She'd tell Amanda all about the life she thinks Amanda has and not the life she does have. Who knows how badly that could screw her up?"

Lee sank down onto the cracked vinyl-covered bench behind him and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Oh my God, I hadn't even thought of that."

"Let's get Francine to call her, say that Amanda got stuck out of town on a film location…"

"We've already used that one," objected Lee.

"We always use that one," said Efraim patiently. "It's believable and at worst her mother thinks it's code for some kind of torrid affair she's having."

"Her mother knows better than to think Amanda would be having an affair. That's ridic-"

Efraim snapped his fingers under Lee's nose. "Scarecrow! Focus on the issue at hand! No one is going to say Amanda's fooling around! Francine makes some kind of excuse for her and then, in the morning, once we have a better idea of how she's feeling, we call again and say there was some kind of accident on set and she's back in town and at the hospital getting checked out."

"But if she's still got amnesia, she'll tell her mother everything we said just now!" Lee pointed out.

"Yeah, well," said Efraim. "If she's still got amnesia and can't remember her own name, who's going to believe her?" He held up his hands defensively at the look that appeared on Lee's face. "Hey, I want her to get her memory back as badly as you do, but we need to think this through like agents. You said it yourself not ten minutes ago – the best case scenario is that we get her out of here without worrying anyone. I mean, there's no real harm in delaying telling her mother, is there? She's not dying – there's no rush."

Lee leaned back and stared at the ceiling while he thought it through. "I guess not," he said finally. "She's safe in here and she'll get her rest. If we call her mother, she'd have to get someone to look after the boys, or she'd bring them with her and they'd get upset if Amanda didn't know them." He sighed and tossed his hands up. "Fine, you win. We'll give Dotty the usual runaround and hope Amanda doesn't kill us later."

"She'll be fine," said Efraim. "Even with a concussion, Amanda is a lot smarter than you – she'll understand and she'll most likely be happy we didn't worry her mother unnecessarily."

"Fine. You can tell her when we come back in the morning," groused Lee.


	3. I'm a Spy? So are You and You and You

Amanda groaned and squinted across the room to the clock. The room was dark, but there was a little bit of light from the corridor and she could just make out that it said 4 o'clock. She groaned again. She had managed to get to sleep at first but then one of the nurses had woken her up to take another painkiller. That seemed weird to her, but the nurse had assured her she wouldn't want to wake up later with a headache.

Well, she wouldn't be waking up later, Amanda thought, because she couldn't get back to sleep, not only because of all the usual noises of a busy hospital, but also the fact that she could not get that jingle from the TV station out of her head. Over and over, it kept invading her dreams. The nurse had said that the pills might make her feel loopy, but Amanda felt just the opposite – like her brain was in overdrive but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get anything clear in her head. Nothing except that jingle. She drowsed in that grey world, floating between sleep and wakefulness, hearing those words drum through her brain.

"_WPED, we're the number one station for your news information!_" sang the voice repetitively.

Amanda sat up abruptly. "Oh my gosh! Of course! That's it!" she exclaimed. "Station One! That's how I know Dean Maguire!" She stopped and put her hand to her throbbing head. "Now what's Station One again?" she asked herself.

Another inner voice chimed in "_It's an Agency training center. You'll need to know codes and things like that…the film company is a front, you work for the Agency… You're a spy_."

"Oh my gosh," Amanda repeated. "That's right! I'm a spy! Dean must be a spy too! Oh!" she gasped again as she figured it out. "The TV station must be a front for the Agency too!" A few seconds later, she remembered those two strange men who had been here last night. She'd heard them say they'd caused her injuries. She gasped out loud. What if they'd followed her to the hospital to finish the job? They'd tried to lure her by saying she had a family waiting for her, hadn't they?

"I have to get out of here!" she exclaimed, and swung her legs off the side of the bed, and instantly regretting that as the wave of nausea hit. "Come on, Amanda," she ground out, closing her eyes. "No guts, no glory – you need to get out of here!"

It took a few moments for the feeling to pass, but when it eventually did, she staggered over to the small locker by the window and looked for her clothes, sighing with relief when she saw not only clothes but a purse, complete with wallet. There was ID in there, but she doubted any of that was real, since spies obviously wouldn't have real identification, would they? She dressed slowly, stopping occasionally as a wave of pain hit, especially when she had to bend over to put on her shoes. She sat for a moment, to catch her breath and noticed the small pill cup on her table.

"Please be another pain killer," she muttered and swallowed it down, chased by a large glass of water.

She moved to the door, pulled it open slightly and peered into the hallway. There was no sign of anyone watching her room and no sign of those men who had visited earlier. She straightened up and stepped out, trying to look as if she belonged there and not back in a bed. She cheered silently as she made it down the hall, past the nurses' station and into the elevator. From there, it was just a few steps across the lobby and out into the chilly night, and no one had tried to stop her. She kept moving, knowing somehow that looking confident was the best way to disguise her nervousness, until she reached the corner at the end of the block.

"Now what?" she thought. "I don't know where I live, I don't know where I work, and I don't know who to trust." She closed her eyes and swayed for a moment before she realized she knew exactly where to go. Stepping to the curb, she hailed a cab and stepped back as one screeched to a halt in front of her.

"Where to?" asked the cabbie cheerfully as she slid into the backseat gingerly.

"Channel WPED please. As fast as you can."

* * *

The cab ride out to Alexandria didn't take too long and soon enough, she found herself standing on the sidewalk outside of the TV station. She paused for a moment, suddenly wondering why she felt so certain Dean would be here at this time of day, before taking a deep breath and striding forward to throw open the door and walk into the lobby.

"Good morning, may I help you? Are you one of our morning show guests?" asked a smiling young intern, the smile vanishing as Amanda walked right past her, headed for the offices beyond. "Excuse me! You can't go back there without a guest pass!" she called out.

Amanda stopped and turned to look at her. "A guest pass? You mean you don't know who I am?"

The intern squirmed and blushed. "No ma'am, I don't. I just started training here this week."

"Ah, of course!" said Amanda. "Where else would you be training except at Station One?"

"Station One?" repeated the intern, confusion written all over her face. "This is Channel Three."

Amanda laid a finger alongside her nose and nodded knowingly. "Of course it is. Your training is excellent."

"I didn't really need to be trained to know that," replied the intern, uncertainly.

"Perhaps not. Anyway, that doesn't matter - Dean Maguire will know me," Amanda announced with a wave of her hand towards the station offices.

The girl's face cleared at the sound of a familiar name. "Oh! Would you like me to call him for you?"

"That won't be necessary," said Amanda. "I've known him for years."

"Yes but you still need a guest pass to go back there…" the girl trailed off as Amanda looked at her blankly.

"A guest pass? Really? Ah, now I see the problem," said Amanda, nodding wisely. She looked at the girl's employee badge on the lanyard around her neck, then back up with a cool smile. "Quite right, Brenda. I forgot to give you the daily password."

"The daily what?" Brenda was getting more and more confused the longer Amanda talked. If he'd been there, Lee could have told her this was one of Amanda's more coherent rambles, but he wasn't here and Brenda's day was just about to get even more confusing.

Amanda looked around carefully to make sure that no one could hear and whispered "Today's password is… slymph."

"Slymph," repeated Brenda, looking blank.

"Yes, that's right," said Amanda. "I'll make sure to tell Mr. Melrose what an excellent job you're doing out here." She frowned slightly, wondering who Mr. Melrose was and why she'd tell him that, before going on. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd swear this was an actual TV station!"

"It is an actual TV station!" protested the beleaguered intern.

Amanda laid a finger against the side of her nose again and winked. "Of course it is," she agreed. "Now tell me where I can find Mr. Maguire."

"Well at this time of day, he'd be at his desk getting his reports ready," answered Brenda without thinking, pointing over her left shoulder.

"Thank you," Amanda said, smartly and headed in that direction.

"But you can't go back there without… a guest pass." The girl's objection trailed off as Amanda disappeared through the swinging doors that led to the offices beyond. She debated for a moment whether she should call Security or at least warn poor Mr. Maguire that a crazy woman was headed his way, then shrugged. He'd had always been pretty rude to her, ignoring her existence except to call her 'Honey' and demand coffee – maybe this lady was here to take him down a peg or two.

I'll just go get a coffee, she thought. Then if anyone asks, I can say I never saw anyone come in.

* * *

Dean Maguire rubbed his hands with glee – this day was going to be the turning point of his career, he just knew it. The woman from the Gillian Maurice talent agency had told him he was a shoo-in for the job in Atlanta and he was already counting the days until he could leave. Not only would he be moving away from this tiny local station to join a national cable network, but she'd promised him that there was every chance he'd be moving up the ladder into actual news. Once he got this exclusive interview with President De Gregorio this afternoon, he'd have proof on his resume that he could play with the big boys.

It had been worth calling in every one of his favors around the city to get this scoop that De Gregorio was going to be landing a full 24 hours before anyone expected him. Not even State Department was aware that he was coming in to attend to some kind of "personal business". Dean didn't know what that was, and wasn't sure he wanted to know, given the proclivities of some dictators, but his source had assured him he would find De Gregorio over on the private side of the airport this morning.

Dean had arranged to do an "outdoor weather remote" from Dulles, but no one except him knew his real plan, not even Tony the cameraman who had agreed to come along. Dean hummed happily as he continued finishing up preparing all his weather reports for the newsroom while he waited for Tony to call and to let him know the truck was equipped and ready to go. Just a few more hours and he'd be the golden boy of the station, and a few hours after that, he'd be being courted by that cable network just like his new friend at the Maurice Agency had promised. With luck, he'd be out of this parochial town of insiders and one-upmanship by spring. New job, new life, new women…

Unfortunately for Dean, his day, much like Brenda the intern's, was about to get a lot more confusing.

Amanda was striding down the back corridors of the station, taking some comfort in the fact that muscle memory seemed to be taking her in a specific direction. "I must have been here before – it all seems familiar somehow."

One last turn and she found herself at Dean's desk, and Dean himself, bent over maps that she could only assume were probably topographical representations of military bases in the Soviet Union or some such thing.

He looked up as she approached and she couldn't help but feel relieved when he obviously recognized her and shot to his feet. "Amanda? What on earth are you doing here? You know I'm always busy with my daily prep at this time of the morning!"

"Don't worry," she said confidingly. "You don't need to pretend. I know all about the Agency."

"You know about..?" Dean spluttered, then grabbed her arm and dragged her toward an empty meeting room. "What do you mean you know about the Agency?" he asked as soon as the door swung shut behind them. "No one but me and my contact is supposed to know about that! Who told you?"

"It's a long story," she said airily. "But that's what I do, isn't it? Find out things I'm not supposed to?"

"Well you certainly always put your nose into things you weren't supposed to," he grumbled. "But if my agency contact here finds out I'm thinking of jumping ship, my new job prospect in Atlanta will be toast! Does anyone else know?"

"Only the people I heard it from," she answered. "But what do you mean jump ship? How could you? I thought you were an honorable guy!"

"Oh Amanda, you know there's no honor in this business. It's all just fake personalities and every man for himself. Their agent made me a much better offer and I'm going to go with it."

"So you're willing to betray everything just for the money?" she asked, shaking her head and giving him a disapproving look. "I expected better of you, Dean."

"Well, I've expected better for myself for a long time," he answered. "But it turns out there's not a lot of upward mobility in this business unless you're willing to stab a few people in the back along the way."

Amanda was sure that as a spy, she shouldn't be shocked by Dean's attitude, but somehow she still was. "So what's your plan?" she asked. "How do you see this working out for you?"

"We've planned it out perfectly," he boasted. "We got a tip that Polo De Gregorio is arriving at Dulles today and I'm going to be there. It will look like I'm just out there to do a weather remote story but instead, we'll be first on the ground to nab the new President of San Cardenza the minute he steps off his plane. I'll get to him before any of those hotshots that are gunning for him; it will be the lead news story all morning and I'll be on the ladder up to bigger and better things and a bigger and better paycheck by the end of the week!"

Amanda shook her head sorrowfully. "When did you get so mercenary?" she asked.

"Oh don't be such a girl scout," scoffed Dean. "You always were too altruistic for your own good. I was there when it almost got you shot, remember?"

Amanda had a flash of memory then – a train platform, a gun, blood and a feeling of intense cold. And a man… a man in a white suit… No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't conjure up anything more than that.

"Just one of the hazards of being a girl scout, I guess," she quipped, trying to sound as if she knew what he was talking about. "And I don't think there's anything wrong with working for the good guys," she said. "You must have thought that once."

"Maybe when I was starting out," Dean admitted. "But I've been in this business too long now and all I can see is its dark underbelly. If changing allegiances is going to make me rich and comfortable, that's a risk I'm willing to take."

Something else he'd said clawed at the edge of Amanda's memories. Something about… "San Cardenza? Are you going to ambush Polo De Gregorio?" she demanded.

"Yeah," said Dean. "That's the guy who's going to make my fortune. He has no idea what's going to hit him when he lands today."

"I'm sure he doesn't" said Amanda. She was disappointed that it looked like she'd arrived in time to watch Dean betray his country, but she didn't want to spook him. Maybe he wasn't the only person involved – who were these other agents he'd mentioned? No, she decided, it would be much better to follow him out there and see what she could do to stop him.

* * *

Unable to sleep between worrying about Amanda and trying to follow the leads on what the rebels were trying to do to De Gregorio, Lee was back in the Agency before the sun was up, pacing back and forth between the telex machines spewing out the daily intel and his desk.

All of his research into Alabam had turned up nothing so far, not even any complaints from the Better Business Bureau. He knew his source had to have known something though for him to take the risk of sending that coded message, so he was going to head out there once he'd briefed Billy. He hoped he'd find something out there that would help him figure out what the reference to "gas" had meant. Maybe if he saw Billy soon enough, he could drop in at the hospital on his way and check on Amanda.

Movement in the corner of his eye had him looking up to see Francine hurrying across the bullpen towards him, a worried frown on her face.

"What is it?" he asked, coming to his feet with a feeling of dread.

"Amanda's missing," she answered immediately. "I just called to get an update and apparently she vanished sometime in the middle of the night."

"What do you mean she vanished?" he asked in rising tones. "How does anyone disappear in the middle of a busy hospital?"

"Apparently the nurse checked on her around 4 a.m., but thought she was just in the bathroom when she wasn't in her bed. Then when she checked again at 5, she realized Amanda was gone."

"Couldn't she just be somewhere in the hospital? Maybe she's still confused and wandering around somewhere!"

Francine shook her head. "Her clothes are gone, so she got dressed. That doesn't sound like aimless wandering. When I called, they'd just done a sweep and were about to call us as her only contact on file."

Lee ran his hand over his face. "Maybe she woke up, remembered everything and went home. That's probably it, right?" he looked at Francine hopefully.

"I've got someone headed over to Arlington now to check. I didn't want to call her house since the cover story was that she's working so it wouldn't make sense for us to be calling to find out where she is. And it's way too early in the morning for anyone else to be calling."

"Yeah, you're right," he nodded. "When will we know?"

"Probably another fifteen minutes or so. I've got hospital security checking to see if she's on camera or if she caught a cab outside. It's just…" she paused and gave Lee another concerned look.

"It's just what?" he prompted.

"It's not like Amanda to do something like that, is it? If she woke up and remembered everything or even if she didn't, she'd have called a nurse, wouldn't she? I mean, why would she sneak out without telling anyone? That's more your style than hers."

"You're right," he sighed. "She'd have stopped to thank every nurse personally."

"She's not that bad!" laughed Francine, despite herself.

"No, she actually did that after she ended up in the hospital with the muscarine poisoning," he answered. "And then she baked them cookies and took them in."

Francine's serious expression had returned. "Well, let's hope she's broken her pattern this time, because if she's not in the hospital and she's not at home, we don't even have a clue where to start looking for her."

Lee scrubbed his hand through his hair in frustration. "She wouldn't walk out in the middle of the night normally, but if she still doesn't remember anything? She might be panicking, she might be lost… I have to go find her."

Francine held up a hand. "Whoa there, Butch," she said. "We haven't even heard yet if she's back at her house and hospital security hasn't gotten back to us. Don't go off half-cocked until we're really certain there's a problem."

"Okay, okay," he groaned. "Although doing a wait-and-see when it involves Amanda is always a bad idea."

"Scarecrow! Desmond!" Billy's bellow roared across the bullpen. "How about you two stop gabbing over your morning coffee and get your butts over here to brief me?"

Lee and Francine exchanged a grimace. "Someone's grumpy," Lee muttered.

"I've got a box of donuts for him in my desk drawer," she muttered back. "I'll detour and grab them."

"Wow," said Lee admiringly. "Thank goodness you know him so well."

"And that's why I'll have his job some day and you'll be working for me," she said with a smirk.

"Scarecrow!" Billy bellowed again, before Lee could retaliate.

Lee grabbed his notes and headed into Billy's office, Francine hot on his heels with the promised box. Billy gave a grunt, a sound somewhere between annoyance and approval, then took one of the donuts and settled in behind his desk, as they sat down facing him.

"What have you got?" he asked. "I am getting way too much heat from upper management on the de Gregorio file – the President wants to know there won't be any incidents during this visit."

"Alabam isn't showing up on the radar at all. I'm going to head out to Dulles in a bit and check it out in person. Except…" He gave Francine a helpless look.

She shook her head. "No 'except'. You head out there and I'll make sure we figure out Amanda."

Billy's eyebrows rose. "What are we figuring out about Amanda? She hasn't gotten worse, has she?" He was honestly worried – Lee's description of her amnesia the night before had been very concerning and he knew that Lee's worry about her was distracting him, and they couldn't afford that right now.

"The hospital seems to have lost track of her," replied Francine. "It's possible she just walked out and went home, but we're still confirming that. I've got people checking her house to see if she's there."

"Do we have any reason to think anything else might have happened to her?" Billy asked, looking back and forth between them. "Is she involved in something you haven't told me about?"

"No, no," Lee replied. "She's not involved in anything for us right now, at least not anything that would have attracted any attention."

"Alright then – let's not assume the worst. Lee, I want you to stick to your San Cardenza file, Francine, I need you to back me up today so make sure you have someone else following up on Amanda, but make sure they keep both of us informed."

"Yes Sir," she replied.

"Who did you send over to her house anyway?" Lee asked.

"Had to send Murphy," Francine answered. "I tried to get Efraim to go, all suited up as a guy from the telephone company, but he said Amanda would recognize him from yesterday."

"He's right. If she still has amnesia and she still thinks we're lying about who we are, that could have gone bad."

The two of them got up from their chairs and headed out of Billy's office.

"You'll tell me when you find her?" Lee asked as they separated on their way to their desks.

"Of course."

A few moments later, as Lee was grabbing his coat for his trip out to Dulles, Francine appeared at his elbow.

""No sign of her at the house," she said. "Murphy's on his way over to see what he can find out from the hospital security cameras."

Lee slumped back against his desk and ran a hand over his eyes. "I didn't realize how much I was counting on her just being safe at home." He looked at Francine worriedly. "He's sure she wasn't there?"

Francine nodded. "He knocked and said he needed to check the lines. Gave him a chance to look in every room and she's definitely not there."

"I should be the one looking for her," he growled out in frustration, "I'm the one who caused all this, but I have to go out to Dulles."

"I know it's tough," Francine agreed. "And you know what this business is like – sometimes the personal stuff has to take a backseat to national security. You know Amanda would agree with that. She wouldn't want you risking something happening to De Gregorio just to try and find her."

"I know, I know! But- "

"Lee, just stop. You get out to Dulles and do your job. Murphy is a good agent and he'll turn that hospital inside out looking for her, just like any other agent in here would – Amanda has a lot of friends here who will help, you know that."

"Okay, okay," he grumbled, standing up again. "I've got the car phone – you promise to call either way?"

"You'll be my first call, I swear."

Lee grimaced but finished putting on his coat and stalked out of the bullpen.


	4. Hangar In There, Baby

"There is some sort of camera crew outside," hissed Ramon, peering out through the hangar door.

Luis, the rebel leader better known as El Lagarto, sidled up to the door and looked where Ramon was pointing. "Do we know why they're here?"

"Why would I know that?" asked Ramon, irritated.

"You are always watching American television," said his compatriot. "Do you recognize any of them?"

Ramon studied them and shook his head. "No, although the man in the suit looks familiar." He squinted at them again. "Look - they are being followed by a very pretty lady."

"Where are they going now?" asked El Lagarto, craning his head to watch them as they moved.

"Towards the runway."

"Follow them. Find out what they're doing here," ordered El Lagarto. "And why the woman is after them. We can't afford any problems at this point in our plan."

"_Sí, jefe_," Ramon nodded, and slipped out the hangar door, skirting along the building as he followed an oblivious Dean and Tony.

Amanda still wasn't quite sure what Dean was up to with this double-cross he had confessed to, or what Tony's part in it was, but she had to admit they were both incredibly convincing in their covers as station employees. Tony had yelled at Dean for the way he was handling the equipment he was carrying, giving him a really believable lecture on how delicate the camera was, how expensive it was and how he'd be the one in trouble back at the station if Dean left so much as a fingerprint on it. Dean had been equally huffy, complaining that Tony had even expected him to help carry it in the first place and pointing out loudly that as on-air talent, he was the one in charge here. Anyone watching them would have been completely convinced they really were from a TV station and not secret agents as all.

The really amazing part to her, was that neither of them, even though they had to be experienced spies, had noticed her following Dean out to the Station One garage and climbing into the back of the fake television van. The drive out to Dulles, hidden under a tarp she'd found inside, had been extraordinarily uncomfortable, but the sound of the engine and the blasting radio in the front seats had masked her gasps and grunts of pain. Her head was still throbbing, but now it was in competition with the aches she'd gotten during that drive. That painkiller she'd taken at the hospital might just possibly be wearing off.

She'd counted to ten after Tony had collected the equipment, then climbed out from under the tarp and then out of the van, following them as quietly as she could, as they squabbled their way through the maze of hangars. Eventually they had stopped and set up a camera alongside a commercial hangar with a large passenger jet parked outside it. Now she was inching closer to try and listen to their conversation.

"You're sure this is where he's going to be?" Tony was asking. "Because once this is set up, I don't want to have to be picking it up and running after him."

"My sources say this is definitely it," answered Dean in a testy voice. "He's coming in without telling State so he can complete this little transaction, then take off again and reappear tomorrow without anyone being the wiser."

Amanda frowned, wishing she had a camera or something to help document this spy trade or whatever it was. She'd just have to pay careful attention and try and remember everything for her debrief later, she decided. She moved closer again, straining to hear the men talking.

Suddenly a hand dropped onto her shoulder and she whirled to find herself facing a menacing looking man in work overalls with a name patch that said "Ramon".

"Can I help you, pretty lady?" he asked, smiling a not very nice smile as he looked her up and down. "You seem to be looking for something – perhaps Ramon can help you find it"

"No, no," she answered airily. "I'm just… looking around."

"This part of the airport is not open to people who are just 'looking around'," he answered. "I'm afraid I am going to have to call the police."

"Oh no, don't do that!" she exclaimed. She ran through a thousand different explanations in her head before deciding that perhaps the truth would be the most efficient. "You see those men over there?" she asked, pointing to Dean and Tony. "I think they're here to commit treason!"

"Treason?" repeated Ramon. "What kind of treason?"

"I'm not sure yet," she confided. "That's why I'm following them! I know it has something to do with Polo De Gregorio though."

Ramon stiffened at the name of his country's president. "That is impossible! No one knows he is coming here today!"

"Well, they know," answered Amanda, gesturing at the news team. "Dean told me himself he was here to ambush the president!"

"Ambush the…" Ramon stared at her. "You must come with me! You must explain this to my _jefe_." He grabbed her arm and began tugging her toward a small building nearby.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Amanda dug in her heels and wrenched her arm from his hand. "I can't go with you! I need to watch those two! And just who are you anyway?" Her gaze traveled up the front of the building until it reached the sign over the doorway. "Alabam Air," she said out loud. She felt the jolt of recognition, although she didn't know why. She concentrated, feeling like it was important, but that didn't bring anything but a spasm of head pain.

She turned to find Ramon watching her with a suspicious look on his face.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"I... I… nothing," she said, lifting a hand to her throbbing head. "I just think I've seen…"There was another flash of pain and then she blurted out, "There was a message... a warning…"

"There was a warning about us?" hissed Ramon. He grabbed her arm again. "What do you know?"

"N-n-nothing," she stammered out, suddenly feeling way over her head. "I just recognized the name, that's all."

This time she couldn't escape Ramon's tight grip as he dragged her into the hangar that now housed the rebels' headquarters.

"_Jefe_! _Jefe_! The Americans are onto us!" he shouted, bringing the rebel commander out of a small office at the back. "This woman says she heard warnings about our plan."

A second man, who looked far more dangerous moved quickly across the room and grasped Amanda's face, pinching it between strong fingers. "What does he mean? What do you know?"

"I don't know anything!" she managed to get out. "I just… I saw the word Alabam written down somewhere but I don't know where and I don't know what it meant!"

"Don't play me for a fool!" he glowered. "What do you know?" His fingers were squeezing tighter and tighter, bringing tears to her eyes.

"I don't know anything!" Amanda whimpered. "I hit my head and I was in the hospital and I can't remember anything!"

El Lagarto pushed her away, scowling. "You think we are stupid?" he sneered as Amanda stumbled back against Ramon. "We saw you following those men outside! What are they here for?"

"I'm not sure," Amanda admitted. "I thought I knew them – one of them – and I followed them because I thought… well, now I don't know what to think." She lifted her hands to her head which was pounding painfully again.

"She told me they were here for _El Presidente_," said Ramon. "She said she heard them say they were here to ambush him."

"They're from the TV station!" Amanda interrupted him quickly, realizing she had put herself and Dean in some kind of danger. "I'm sure they didn't mean an ambush-ambush, just you know, trying to get an exclusive."

"An exclusive what?" asked El Lagarto. "Exclusive access to our country's resources? To our oil and our diamond mines? The riches that should be lifting our people up rather than being ground under the heel of the oppressors and their American conspirators?" His voice had risen with rage and he was almost spitting as he spoke now.

Amanda shrank back, both in fear and because the shouting was making her head ring. "No, just an interview," she replied weakly. "That's all they want, just to talk to him."

"Lies!" screamed El Lagarto. "All you Americans can do is lie!" He gestured to the rear of the building. "Lock her up – we'll deal with her the same way we deal with De Gregorio! But first – we see what those two outside want."

Ramon seized her by the arm and marched towards the small stockroom. "Enjoy your stay," he sneered. "It will be over soon enough."

"It will? You'll let me go once you get what you want?" she asked.

"That is not what I said," he responded with a cruel smile, then slammed the door shut and locked it.

Amanda looked around the room, giving a squeak of surprise when she realized she wasn't alone. Up against the far wall was a frantic looking man tied up and gagged in the corner. "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed, running over to kneel beside him. "Are you alright?" she asked, tugging at the gag, which looked painful, tied tightly around his face "I mean obviously you're not because you're tied up, but did they hurt you?"

The gag came free and the man sucked in a lungful of air with relief. "Thanks," he gasped out between breaths. "I'm not hurt but I've definitely been better."

Amanda began working on the knots on his hands, but those were more difficult because he'd tightened them in his struggle to escape. "How did you end up here?" she asked. "What are those men outside doing?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he said, shifting to give her easier access. "I own this business and they've been working for me for a few months. I didn't think they were anything but ordinary aircraft mechanics until today." He winced as the ropes pinched his wrists.

"I'm so sorry," Amanda apologized. "They've really got you trussed up like a Christmas turkey here and there isn't anything I can use to cut you loose."

"Don't worry – I've pretty much lost all feeling in my arms now anyway," he grimaced. "Just do what you need to do."

"So you own Alabam Air?" Amanda asked, as she kept working to free him.

"Yes, and like I said, up until today, everything was normal. Then this morning, when I got here, Luis and Ramon were already here. They put a gun to my head and told me to call all the other workers and tell them not to come in today. Then they stuffed me in here."

"Do you have any idea why?"

"It has something to do with the plane we're delivering today." He grunted in pain. "The jet out front has been our main project for the last six months and its new owner is coming today to see it. From what they're saying, I think they're planning to kill him."

Amanda heart plummeted into her stomach and she paused in her attempts to get the knots undone. "Is the new owner, by any chance, the president of San Cardenza?"

"How on earth did you know that?" he asked in amazement.

"It's a long story and I actually don't remember most of it," admitted Amanda. "But I followed two men here who I think are also planning to betray De Gregorio. Aha!" she added with satisfaction as the knot finally loosened. "There you go!"

"Thank goodness," said the other prisoner, starting to rub at his bruised wrists. A few moments later, he held out a hand. "I'm Cal – and I am really delighted you came along."

"I'm Amanda," she introduced herself, shaking his hand. "And I'm glad I could help." She looked around the small room which was empty except for one wooden crate, and sighed. "Although I'm not sure how much good I've done if we still can't get out of here."

Cal looked around and grimaced too. "Normally this room is full of stuff we could have used as a weapon, but they must have been here all night preparing. And before you ask, the crate's empty – whatever was in it was taken out before they grabbed me this morning."

Amanda had been walking around the room, studying the walls for weaknesses and finding none. No weapons, nowhere to hide when those men returned, and the only window a small skylight that was at least fifteen feet off the ground. "Oh my gosh," she muttered, sinking onto the crate. "What do we do now?"

* * *

Lee pulled into the parking lot for the service area of the airport and immediately picked up his car phone to call Francine.

"I'm at Dulles," he said. "Any sign of Amanda?"

"Don't you think I would have paged you?" she pointed out, before taking pity on him. "But no, not yet. We have her on security cameras walking out the front door and heading down the block, but the guys have drawn a blank after that. But they're still looking!" she added hurriedly at Lee's growl of frustration.

"Okay, okay," he grumbled. "I'm going to go scout out this Alabam place. I'll call you back as soon as I'm back at the car, okay?" He squinted across the parking lot and scowled. "I don't believe it – you'll never guess who's out here."

"Who?" Francine asked.

"Amanda's old boyfriend – that guy who does the weather? He's out here with a camera – looks like he's covering a story."

"A weather guy? That doesn't seem likely," she answered. "Unless Dulles is having its own little snowstorm or something."

"It's definitely him," said Lee. "Listen, I know it's probably just a weird coincidence or something, but it's giving me a bad feeling. Could you make a few calls? See why he's here?"

"Why would that twerp give you a bad feeling?" Francine questioned him. "He's just a jumped-up wannabe."

"Anytime something's connected to Amanda, I get a bad feeling," he replied. "I mean, I don't mean it like that," he corrected himself quickly. "It's just… she's missing, her idiot ex is out here and he's parked himself right outside a company that just got named in a covert message. Just gives me the willies, you know?"

Francine knew exactly what he meant – sometimes in the field you just got a feeling, a prickle on the back of your neck that something wasn't right. "Okay," she said. "I'll do some quick digging and see what turns up."

"Thanks, Francine."

"You bet. Be careful out there," Francine responded before hanging up.

Lee got out of the Porsche, stretching slightly as he tried and loosen up the tension he's felt ever since spotting Dean Maguire. He looked around casually, getting his bearings. Alabam had its hangar nearby; there was a plane parked on the airstrip, with its cargo loading doors open. There was nothing unusual about any of it, but that sense of danger just wouldn't leave him alone. He wondered for a moment if he should wait and call Francine back about Dean, then gave himself a shake.

"Pull yourself together, Skip," he mimicked his uncle's voice. "You're just on edge about Amanda and you're letting it leak into this, right? Right," he reassured himself, then headed towards the hangar.

* * *

"We have a problem," Efraim announced, his face unusually grim.

"Another one?" sighed Billy, sitting back in his chair as he waved him into his office. "Polo De Gregorio has arrived early and is loose somewhere without any State department handlers, Lee and Francine are both distracted by Amanda being missing and Amanda's mother has already called this morning trying to get hold of her. What else could go wrong?"

"Oh, I think this one goes right to the top of that list," replied Efraim. "Turns out that message from Martinez that we picked up at the taco stand had two parts."

"And what does this second part say?"

Efraim held out the slip of paper but recited the cipher translation out loud. "Rebels, jet… bomb."

"Bomb?" exclaimed Billy, getting to his feet. "Do we have anything else? Do we think they're planning to drop a bomb from a plane? Or blow up De Gregorio's?"

"It could be either of those," said Efraim. "But don't forget the last message had the word "gas" in it too. None of the possible scenarios are good, but one thing's for sure – all roads lead to Dulles."

"Well, Lee's already out there, isn't he? Get him tracking this down!"

"We're trying, but he's not answering the car phone, and we only found this out after his last check in with Francine," said Efraim. "We've sent the emergency code to his pager and Francine's already pulling together a team," he forestalled Billy's next question. "Or she'd be in here explaining all this herself."

The lady in question blew into the office like a whirlwind. "We're ready to go, Billy. I've alerted law enforcement at Dulles and they're investigating, but are waiting for us to arrive unless they see anything that looks like an imminent threat."

"Good. I'm coming with you," replied Billy, getting his gun out of his desk drawer and holstering it before pulling on his jacket. "I assume they're evacuating the area around that airplane company that was mentioned in the first message."

"Alabam? Yes," confirmed Francine as they walked out of his office and across the bullpen. "But there's a small wrinkle there."

Billy stopped dead and turned to her. "What kind of small wrinkle?"

"When Lee called in, he mentioned that there was a news crew out there from Channel 3. I checked in with the station and Dean Maguire is doing some kind of weather report from out there, although they don't know why. Anyway, he's got a live feed going, straight into the newsroom – and he's set up almost on Alabam's doorstep."

"So you're telling me whatever we're going to have to do out there is going to be on live television?" thundered Billy. "Why aren't they pulling them out of there?"

"They will, or we will," soothed Francine, starting the walk to the elevator again. "But they don't want to attract attention and Dean Maguire is just the kind of bozo who would start screaming about First Amendment rights and then we might miss our chance if the rebels take off. So for now, they're just keeping an eye on him and trying to keep everything looking like a normal day in the neighborhood."

Billy grunted in agreement. "Fine. But keep someone assigned to tackle them and drag him out for his own safety. I'd rather we get slammed for interfering with him getting a story than for letting anything happen to him in case the rebels really are out there and decide to shoot their way out."

"I'll contact the field team," said Efraim, immediately. The elevator doors opened and Billy stepped in, followed by Francine. "Stay safe," Efraim ordered her unnecessarily."

"I always do," she reassured him.

The doors closed and Efraim turned with a sigh to go do as Billy had asked.


	5. The Gang's All Here

Lee was skirting along the side of the hangar, trying to get an idea of the layout inside. He found a back door open and slipped in, moving quietly among the shelves of equipment and the jets being worked on, trying to spot anything out of place. So far the only thing he'd noticed was the complete lack of employees anywhere on the premises. It had all the signs of a luxury jet business with projects underway, but it seemed like everything was a bit too deserted to be the real thing. On the other hand, through the front doors of the hangar, he could see a jet parked, obviously ready and prepped for something, if only he could figure out what.

He heard raised voices and shrank back into the shadows along the wall.

"Make sure you get it all loaded before he arrives!" someone was shouting in Spanish. "Our scouts tell us he is even earlier than expected and is likely on his way here now!"

"Don't rush me! If I drop a canister now, the only dead martyrs for the cause will be us!" came the snarled answer.

"Well hurry up carefully then!" snapped the first voice. "We won't have any time once De Gregorio is on that plane!"

Lee craned his neck around a shelving unit but couldn't see much beyond two men with dark hair and orange overalls. The men moved away and he began inching his way after them, trying to hear what else they were saying, but they had lowered their voices and he couldn't make out anything useful. He moved closer again, hoping to see what they were doing, but realized it would be difficult without exposing himself since there wasn't much to hide behind near the hangar doors. He moved back and headed for the rear door he'd come in, debating as he went whether to try and move around the front to continue watching or to get back to the car to call for reinforcements.

He was still making up his mind when the pager on his belt vibrated. He clamped a hand over it, hoping the slight buzz wasn't heard by either of the men, then slowly eased it loose and peered down at it, frowning when he saw the numeric code for an urgent call-in, followed by Francine's phone number. That was odd – Francine knew he was due to check in within a quarter-hour at most. Unless…

His heart rate picked up – the only thing that could be dire enough to need his immediate attention was Amanda. He jammed the pager back in his pocket and began to move more quickly along the back of the hangar, trying to get back to the Porsche unseen. He was so worried about what Francine needed to tell him that he didn't take it in at first, the odd rhythmic tapping coming from the wall. It wasn't until it increased in volume as he got closer that he realized he'd been absentmindedly tapping his finger along his leg in the same pattern: tap-tap-tap, knock-knock-knock, tap-tap-tap…

He stopped dead, as it hit him that he was hearing an SOS being tapped out from somewhere inside the Alabam building. It had gone silent so he turned to face the metal wall, waiting to see if he'd imagined it, but then it came again: tap-tap-tap, knock-knock-knock, tap-tap-tap. He looked around to see if anyone else was in sight, then quietly reached to knock against the wall, using the universally recognizable "shave and a haircut" rhythm, hitting the first five beats, then pausing. Almost immediately the last two taps came in response, followed by the heavy pounding of fists against the wall and at least two raised voices, although they were too muffled to hear. He templed his hands against the wall while he ran through his possible next steps.

He could keep moving towards the Porsche and call for backup – and maybe find out if there was news about Amanda. Or – and he knew this was really his only choice – he could go back in the building and see out why someone was frantically trying to get the attention of anyone passing by the building this early in the morning. Any minute now, those two guys were going to come and investigate and he was rapidly losing his window of the element of surprise. He pushed off the wall with a mild groan and started to make his way back to the rear entrance.

Slipping inside again, he moved stealthily through the shelves, estimating by steps that the sounds he'd heard must have been coming from a room behind that supply room. He made a face at the sound levels now coming from the room – he was going to be lucky if he could get that door open before the guys outside heard it too…

He wasn't that lucky. The telltale click of a gun being cocked had him freezing mid-step, then turning slowly to find the two mechanics standing behind him. The one with the gun gestured for him to raise his hands and he did so, before pasting on a smile.

"Well, hey there fellas! I don't know what all is going on here but I just came in hopin' to find a restroom! But, you know, I'm sure I can find one somewhere else since y'all seem pretty serious about your privacy." He moved sideways as if he was trying to leave, then stopped dead when the armed one shook his head and gestured for him to stop.

"Ramon, why are there so many Americans sniffing around?" he raged at his companion. "No one is supposed to know De Gregorio was arriving today! Our contact assured us we would have the element of surprise! Have you been talking?"

"No, _jefe_! You know I would not! Martinez must have gotten a message out!"

"You said you had taken care of him!" Luis said through gritted teeth.

"I did, _jefe_! But he must have done it before I killed him!"

"Now hang on!" said Lee, still in his good ole boy drawl. "You two have killed someone?"

Luis turned back to him with a scowl. "Do not think we are fools, _gringo_! Ramon, check him for weapons!"

Lee sighed as Ramon ran his hands under Lee's jacket, pulled the gun from his shoulder holster, and stepped back, pointing his own gun at him. One guy with a gun he might have been able to take by surprise, but fighting two of them was not a chance he was willing to take.

"Move," said Luis, pointing to the stockroom door.

Lee did as he was told and moved to the door, still calculating the angles of attack, and his chances to escape. But then Ramon leaned forward to open the door, swinging it wide to let him enter, and Lee saw who was inside, looking as shocked to see him as he felt.

"Amanda!" he exclaimed, stepping forward without any thought. "What are you doing here? Are you alright? We were so worried!" In his happiness, he completely forgot that she had forgotten him and strode across the room, sweeping her into a tight hug.

For a split second, Amanda stiffened, then she relaxed, although not enough to hug him back. She couldn't explain it – this man had admitted to her that he was the one who'd put her in the hospital and yet, in the moment, she had felt an inexplicable surge of relief when she'd seen him in the doorway. And now he was hugging her as if he felt that same relief and all thought of whether he was a good guy or a bad guy fled.

Are you okay?" he repeated, still embracing her.

"I'm fine," she stammered.

Lee stepped back, but still held onto her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Why did you leave the hospital? Where did you go?" He looked around the small room they were now all imprisoned in, and turned back to her with an incredulous look. "And how on earth did you end up here?"

"I came with Dean," she said simply, and watched his jaw drop.

"You came with Dean?" he echoed. "Why? And why is he here?"

"He's ambushing the president," she replied. "I followed him to try and stop him."

Lee stared at her for a moment, then led her over to the crate and pushed her to sit down and sat down beside her, taking her hand in his, relieved when she didn't draw back. "Okay, start from the beginning," he said, encouragingly. "Starting with why you left the hospital."

"Well, some of my memory came back," she began, pausing when his face lit up.

"It has? That's fantastic! What did you remember?"

"Dean," she answered.

Lee's face fell. "You remembered Dean Maguire? Seriously?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes! At first I couldn't remember why I knew him, but then it all came back!"

"All of it?" he asked, hopefully.

"Uh huh! All about how he was a spy and- "

"Wait - what?" asked a very confused Lee.

"Well, I mean, I know it's called Channel Three," she went on, patiently. "But then I realized that the TV station is a cover for the Agency he works for, and it must really be Station One!"

Lee blinked, which Amanda took as encouragement to go on.

"So then, I thought, well he could help me remember because he knew me and I knew him, so I left the hospital and went to Station One to look for him!"

"You thought Channel Three was Station One? And no one there said that wasn't true?"

"Well, it was very early in the morning, of course, so the only other person I met was a trainee!"

"A trainee?" Lee knew he sounded ridiculous, just repeating everything she said but he was having a hard time following the story.

Amanda nodded. "Well, she said she was an intern, but then she said she was training and of course, Station One is a training center, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but- "

"Gee, I hope I didn't get her in trouble," Amanda rambled on. "But I remembered where Dean's desk was, so I just went there, but then…" She stopped and frowned slightly.

"What happened then?" Lee prompted.

"Well, of course he was surprised to see me, but I told him he didn't need to worry because I knew all about the Agency!"

"And what did he say?" asked Lee, fascinated despite himself.

"He looked spooked, which I guess makes sense. But then he told me that I couldn't tell anyone or it would ruin his whole plan to ambush President de Gregorio!"

"He said that?"

"Oh yes! And then he told me all about how he was planning to jump ship and how he was going to be a big deal after he got to the president before anyone else! Well, I just couldn't believe it that he was so open about betraying the people he worked for but he said the whole business was nothing but backstabbing to get ahead ad he was just doing the same thing as everyone else! I was so disappointed in him!"

Lee had started to get an inkling of what was going on now, aided by the fact that he'd seen Dean outside with that cameraman. "You thought he was betraying his country?"

Amanda nodded sadly. "But I thought maybe I could stop him so when he went down to meet Tony and come out in here the van, I hid myself in the back."

"Of course you did," Lee sighed. He reached up without thinking and ran a finger across the bruise on her forehead that was starting to fade.

Amanda's eyes met his, startled by the unconscious touch. "Isn't that why you're here? To stop him?" She stood up and backed away, hands held out in front of her as he moved to follow her as if pulled by an invisible thread. "Or are you in on it?"

"Of course I'm not in on it!" said Lee, his exasperation coming back to the forefront. "There's no 'it' to be in on!"

"Well, I don't think that can be true," said a voice behind them.

Lee jumped and whirled around. In his relief at seeing Amanda, he'd completely forgotten there was another person in the room. He held out his hand to him. "I'm sorry – Lee Stetson," he said. "I was just so relieved to see Amanda…" he gave an apologetic shrug and the other man smiled.

"Well, I'm sorry we seem to have dragged you into this," he said, shaking his hand. "I'm Cal – I own this place." He motioned towards the outside wall. "I guess you heard us knocking?"

"Yeah – unfortunately so did our friends out there so they got the drop on me," Lee replied. "You were saying something about something happening here?"

"Well, from what Luis and Ramon said to me and from the tale Amanda just spun you, I'd say it has something to do with that jet out front that someone from San Cardenza is coming to pick up today."

"San Cardenza?" Lee perked up. "You know that for sure?"

Cal nodded. "There's a fake name on the order form but in this business, you learn to make sure you're not doing anything that'll get you in trouble with the CIA. So I got my people to check where the money's coming from…" He spread his hands. "San Cardenza is on the list of friendly countries so I didn't think it would be a problem."

"Oh, it is a friendly country," said Lee, running a hand through his hair. "It just has a little rebellion going on that seems to have escaped outside its borders."

"So I gather," said Cal, sardonically. "And you're here to stop that?"

"I am," Lee nodded.

"Are you?" asked Amanda.

"Amanda," sighed Lee. "Look, I know you don't remember me, but can you trust me? Just a little? That's not a lot to ask, is it?"

Amanda stared at him with an arrested expression. "That's odd."

"What is?" he asked.

"I seem to remember you've asked me to trust you before."

Lee began to smile and he nodded in agreement. "Yeah!"

"And I did."

"Yeah, you did!"

"And then I ended up in the hospital with amnesia! And you told me you'd put me in there!"

"Well, not like that!" Lee looked appalled. "We bumped heads leaning to pick something up at the same time." He pointed to the bruise on his own forehead, then lifted his chin to show the small cut he had there. "And then you hit your head again here, when you were getting back up."

"And that gave me amnesia?" she asked, clearly not believing him.

"No, that just made you dizzy – and then you fainted and hit your head a third time." He approached her gently and ran one hand through her hair until he reached the goose egg at the back of her scalp. "Right here." He touched it gently but still made her wince in pain. "Sorry," he said, pulling his hand away.

Amanda studied him intently. "So you're really one of the good guys?"

He had to smile at her phrasing; it was such an Amanda way to phrase it. "I'm really one of the good guys," he promised.

Amanda's posture relaxed fractionally. "And you're after Dean?"

Lee shook his head. "No, I'm not. Dean's not an agent – he's just the Channel Three weatherman."

Amanda shook her head, confused. "No… he's not… I remembered…" She looked at him with a pleading expression. "Didn't I?"

"You remembered a lot of stuff but you got it all a little bit mixed up," he answered, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

She lifted her free hand and rubbed her temple. "So…am I a spy?" she asked.

"No, not really," he answered.

"Not really?" she repeated. "What does that mean?"

"You work with me at an intelligence agency but you're still unofficial."

Amanda closed her eyes and tried to force the memories. Another puzzle piece floated by and her eyes flew open. "Are you my husband?"

"What?" Lee blurted out. "No!"

"Why do I remember you saying you were?" she wailed. "Why am I remembering everything wrong?" She pulled away from him and dropped her head into her hands. "I hate this! I just want to go home. Except I don't remember where that is!"

"Amanda," he cajoled her. "Amanda, come on, it'll be okay, I promise." He shifted closer and pulled her against him, letting her head drop against his chest.

"How can it be okay?" she asked. "We're locked in a room and there are two men out there who are planning something awful and they said they were going to kill us and I won't even see my life flash before my eyes because I-I-I c-c-can't remember it!" she ended with a hiccupping sob.

"Hey now," Lee squeezed her gently. "It's not going to come to that. This is my job, remember?" She lifted her head to glare at him. "Okay, bad choice of words – of course, you don't remember. But believe me, I really do have people who know where I am and if I don't check in, they'll come running – we're not alone. And- " he leaned back and hooked a finger under her chin so that she met his eyes. "We have each other. Trust me."

Something about his certainty calmed her, even in this crazy situation. "Okay," she said. "So what now?"

"That's exactly what I was going to ask," said Cal. "You got any kind of plan, secret agent man?"

Lee gave Amanda one last squeeze, then stood up and looked around the room, then at his watch. "I was supposed to check in ten minutes ago, so Francine at least will be on alert – especially since I didn't answer the page she sent me." He began to pace around the room, stopping and staring at the crate Amanda was sitting on. "Anything in there?"

"No," said Cal in a disappointed voice. "That was the first thing we checked. And it's too sturdy to break up – we tried that too."

Lee nodded, lost in thought. "The skylight is too high, I suppose?"

Cal perked up again. "Well, now, we did try and reach it standing on the crate and Amanda on my shoulders but we were a few inches too short for her to reach it, but you're a pretty tall drink of water, aren't you?"

"I am," agreed Lee. "And I'm probably strong enough to boost you further than my shoulders."

"Well, let's stop talking and get climbing!" said Cal with enthusiasm.

"But not all three of us can get out that way," Amanda pointed out.

"We only need one of us to get out," answered Cal reasonably. "To go get help."

"Okay," said Amanda, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. "I can do that."

"Oh no!" said Cal and Lee at the exact same time.

"I'll do it," said Cal. "It's a hell of a drop on the other side and you already seem a bit shaky. Besides, I know my way around this airport better than either of you so it'll waste a lot less time if I'm the one looking for Security."

"Cal's right – he's the obvious choice" Lee nodded, squeezing Amanda's shoulder when she looked downcast. Internally, everything was telling Lee to hoist Amanda out that window to safety but it was warring with a quite fierce desire to keep her with him where he could protect her. "We can't risk you bumping your head again, can we?"

"No, I suppose not," she sighed.

Lee climbed up on the crate, and waited for Cal to climb up beside him. With his back braced against the wall, he cupped his hands and Cal stepped up onto them, then onto Lee's shoulders.

"Can you reach?" Lee asked.

"Not quite," said Cal, straining.

Lee lifted his hands and put them under Cal's heels, then began to push up.

"Almost there," gasped Cal. "Just let me…"

There was a pause, then the sound of breaking glass as Cal punched it out of the frame. A few seconds later and his weight was gone from Lee's hands as he hauled himself over the sill.

"I'll be back with help in a minute!" he called down, then swung himself over and out. They could hear his footsteps moving along the roof, then the sound of his shoes scraping along the wall as he lowered himself over the roof edge, then let go. After a long moment of silence, there was a heart-stopping thud and a cry of pain on the other side of the wall.

"Cal?" Lee called, jumping down from the crate

It took another moment but then there was a sharp rap on the wall and both Lee and Amanda heaved sighs of relief.

That feeling was not due to last. Almost instantly, the door to their prison burst open and Ramon appeared brandishing a gun. His gaze swept the room and his lip twisted into a snarl. Lee moved to stand beside Amanda immediately, grabbing her hand protectively.

"Where is he?" Ramon's eyes travelled up to the broken window and he let loose a curse in Spanish. "You two! Come! Now!" He waved the gun at them until they moved towards the door.

"Luis!" Ramon bellowed as he continued to gesture for them to walk ahead of him. "We have to get out of here!"

Luis appeared in the doorway to the hangar, stopping dead when he saw Lee and Amanda, and pulling a gun from his pocket as well. "Why have you let them out? And where is the old man?"

"Gone" said Ramon. "I heard a noise and went to check on them. He went out the skylight – it is only a matter of minutes before he brings security down on us."

Luis looked around wildly as if he expected the army to descend on them any moment. "We'll put them in the plane," he said through gritted teeth. "_El Presidente_ is already on board and our plan is almost complete – we cannot afford to lose him now."

Ramon gave Amanda a push, ignoring Lee's growl of anger. "Move," he ordered, pointing to the open cargo door at the bottom of the plane.

"What?" asked Amanda, confused. "Why do you want us to get in there?"

"Because we do not have time to kill you now," Luis answered with a sneer. "So we will let De Gregorio do it for us."

"What do you mean?" asked Lee, purposefully slowing down.

Luis raised his gun and put it against Amanda's head. "Get in the plane, _hombre_. Now."

Lee looked at Amanda, who gazed back at him with a troubled expression. If he'd been by himself, he might have attempted an escape, or at least to fight them long enough for Cal and the cavalry to arrive, but he couldn't gamble on anything happening to Amanda. Despite what they were saying, as long as they were still alive in that plane, there was a chance they could escape. He gave her a reassuring nod and they continued toward the plane.

Ramon climbed in first, grabbing some rope, while Luis herded them from behind. He kept the gun trained on them as Ramon tied Amanda's hands behind her back, then turned to look unsuccessfully for more rope for Lee.

"Wait a moment," smiled Luis evilly. He leaned forward and patted Lee down until he found what he was looking for. "So predictable," he said, fishing out the pair of handcuffs from Lee's back pocket and tossing them to Ramon.

Lee tried to remain expressionless even though he was raging inside. Ropes would have been a lot easier to get out of, and he began to recalculate what their next move should be.

Ramon pushed Amanda, sending her sprawling to the floor, unable to protect herself with her bound hands. Lee immediately stepped forward with a growl, pulling up short when Luis swung his gun at her.

"Ramon, cuff our new _amigo_ to something sturdy," he directed. Ramon pushed Lee over to the wall, and cuffed him to one of the struts, giving him a quick blow to the temple when he was done that left Lee seeing stars.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Amanda, pulling their attention to her. "What have you done to the plane?"

"We have done nothing to the plane," chuckled Luis. "It is what the plane will do that should worry you." He hunkered down in front of her and waved a hand down the cargo area. "The plane is the weapon."

"To kill the president?" asked Lee.

"Oh no, _amigo_. To kill everyone."

Lee and Amanda exchanged a glance, neither understanding.

"The plane has been armed with nerve gas. As long as the plane is stable, nothing will happen." Luis held his hand out flat. "But when it goes into a bank…" - he turned his hand on a slant – "the canisters will mix and the gas will land in a cloud all over Arlington."

"Arlington?" squeaked Amanda. "But I… I live there, don't I?" she turned to Lee in a panic. He nodded and she became more frantic. "And my family?"

He nodded again and Amanda turned back to Luis. "You can't do that! There are innocent people down there! Families, mothers, children…" her voice trailed off as he scowled at her.

"Are they any more innocent than the families De Gregorio has separated and imprisoned? I don't think so! Besides, soon you won't care," he went on, smiling evilly. "Everyone on the plane will be exposed as well. You will be dead long before anyone on the ground."


	6. Walking on Air

There was a sudden shudder as the plane engines sprang to life.

"Ah, _El Presidente_ is eager to fly, just as we thought. He is also predictable," said Luis, shaking his head with a smile. "And now it is time for us to go." He sketched a mocking salute at them and turned to climb back down to the tarmac. As Lee and Amanda watched helplessly, the doors slammed shut and the buzzing sound of the locks being closed told them they were firmly trapped.

"What do we do?" asked Amanda, turning to look at Lee with a pleading expression. "All those people… my family…"

It was typical, he thought, that Amanda completely ignored the part where she was also in imminent danger. "We get loose," he said. "And we keep this plane from taking off."

"Okay," she nodded. "How do we do that?"

"Can you see anything to help you get those ropes off?" he asked, twisting to look for himself.

Amanda rolled and pushed herself up to her feet. "I don't see anything," she said, starting to walk through the hold. A sudden jerk as the plane began to move sent her stumbling.

"Amanda, come here," Lee ordered. "Turn around," he said when she'd come closer. "I think I can get you untied if you can just get your hands close enough."

Amanda turned and tried to lower herself so he could grab the ropes, but the cuffs were too short.

"Damn it, I can't reach," he said in frustration. "Scoot back a bit – I'll need to use my teeth." Lee crouched down and waited for her to get close enough.

She moved back until she could feel his breath against her wrists, then the tug as he began to pull on each part of the knot in turn. "Don't bite me," she said, absentmindedly and heard him snort out a laugh and exhale a gush of warm air against her skin. Something jangled in her brain. "Have I… Did I say that to you before?" she asked.

"Umm-hmm," Lee made a noise of agreement around the rope he had between his teeth. He broke off to catch his breath. "But you bit me first."

"I bit you…?" Amanda's question trailed off as she cudgeled her brain trying to catch hold of the memory that stayed just tantalizingly out of reach. She wanted desperately to ask Lee more about his plan, but stayed silent, letting him work without interruption. Suddenly she could feel the ropes loosening and with a quick flex of her wrists, she was free. She whirled to face him, rubbing her wrists where the ropes had bruised her.

"Okay, now how do we get you free?" she asked.

"Inside jacket pocket," he motioned with his chin as he straightened up. "There's a lock pick set."

"Wow, you really are a spy," she commented as she slid a hand inside his jacket, looking for the pocket. "You always carry a lock pick?"

"You never know when you'll need one," he said. "Besides, I've seen what you carry in your purse and it makes a lock pick look perfectly ordinary."

"Really?" she asked, opening the small case.

"Oh yeah – your purse has weapons the bad guys never expect – it's amazing." Amanda had the case open now and held it out in front of him. "That one in the middle," he said, and waited for her to dig it out.

"What do I need to do?" Amanda stared worriedly from the pick in her hand to the handcuffs.

"With that? You just need to give it to me." He extended his fingers and picked it out of her hand. "Now, see that ladder over there? It will take you up to the cabin level. You need to get to the cockpit and then you need to do whatever you can to stop De Gregorio from getting this plane off the ground."

"I need to what?" she semi-squealed.

Lee continued to work at the lock, grunting in frustration as the tumblers refused to shift. "I guess I should be happy bad guys can't get out of these easily either," he muttered. He realized Amanda hadn't moved and looked up to see her panicked expression. "Get going, Amanda! You know we can't let this plane take off!"

"What do I do? What do I say?" she spluttered. "I'm not a spy! I'm just a helper – that's what you said! How am I supposed to make him listen?"

"Amanda!" Lee barked out her name, stopping her in mid-ramble. Her eyes went wide and she bit her lip. His expression softened. "Come here," he said. "Give me your hand."

She reached out and let his fingers curl around hers as much as he was able.

"Amanda, you can do this. I know you can."

"You do?" she questioned.

"I do. And you know why?" he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. "Because I know you, Amanda. I know that The Sound of Music is your favorite movie. And that your mother's pot roast is your favorite dinner."

"With succotash?" she interrupted.

"Yeah," he nodded. "That's right. I could never understand how you could eat that stuff. There's a reason that cartoon says 'Sufferin' succotash', you know." He took a breath. "I know that you're smart and I know that you're brave and I know that you have gotten yourself out of way worse problems than this. Hell, you've gotten me out of way worse problems than this." He smiled and she began to look a little less worried.

"I know that you have a family that adores you and a boss that thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread. And I know that you can go up there and have De Gregorio wrapped around your finger in about two seconds flat."

"Are you sure?" she whispered.

Lee squeezed her fingers again. "You know how I asked you to trust me earlier?"

She nodded.

"Well, trust me again when I tell you that I believe you can do this." He grimaced as the engines got louder. "But I also believe you need to go do it now." He tilted his head toward the cockpit. "Go get 'em, partner. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Amanda stared for a moment then nodded. "Okay." She turned to climb up the ladder, then ran up the length of the plane, tumbling into the tight space of the cockpit.

"Amanda? What are _you_ doing here?"

Amanda's jaw dropped at the sight of Dean in the co-pilot seat.

"Dean?"

"Oh how nice, there's a stewardess," said De Gregorio jovially. "You may go get me a coffee,"

"What are you doing here?" asked Dean again, more forcefully.

Amanda ignored him. "Mr. President? I'm not here to get you coffee. I'm here to ask you not to fly this plane anywhere."

"Ah, but I must, beautiful lady," he answered, not stopping at all. "If I do not fly now, they will not let me at the controls until I am back in San Cardenza."

"You are interrupting my interview!" shouted Dean. "I told you this was important."

"Yes, Dean, I'm sure it is," Amanda tried to placate him. "But if Mr. De Gregorio doesn't stop this plane, we're all going to die."

"Oh now, I see you have heard the rumors," said De Gregorio. "But I am sure my doctors are exaggerating the risk."

"Your doctors?" Dean's attention snapped back to the president as he sensed his scoop, and a rosy future in cable news. He moved the microphone for his tape recorder closer to De Gregorio. "What did your doctors say?"

"A mere bagatelle," answered De Gregorio with an airy wave. "Just a tiny problem with stress. I'm sure they are being overly cautious."

"Mr. President? I don't want to add to your stress, but I really, really need you to stop this plane," Amanda attempted again.

"Amanda, can you just stop? This should be the most exciting moment of your life, being taken on a flight over Washington, piloted by a famous head of state," said Dean through gritted teeth.

"Oh Mr. President, please don't" begged Amanda as the plane began to accelerate down the runway.

The radio crackled to life with a voice from the control tower. 'Who's flying that plane? No one is cleared to be on that runway!"

"Oh, I must hurry before anyone stops me," chuckled De Gregorio. He continued to drive the plane forward, but turned to give Amanda and engaging smile. "I'm not actually supposed to fly at all."

"Well then maybe you should stop," suggested Amanda. "If there's a good reason people don't want you to."

"Amanda, why are you here? And why are you interfering?" demanded Dean, but neither Amanda nor the president were listening to him.

"It is such a silly little reason," De Gregorio waved again. "My doctors claim that my little fainting episodes are due to stress. They say I should remain completely calm all the time, but me? I love the adrenaline rush of flying – how could that stress me?"

The front wheel lifted off and Amanda took a deep breath and blurted everything out. "Mr. President, I know you have no reason to believe me, but I work for the government and I need you to stop this plane right now!"

"You do not work for the government!" yelled Dean. "You work for a temp agency!"

"Don't listen to him," Amanda pleaded. "I work for the Agency agency and it is a matter of national security that you stop. Please, Mr. President!"

De Gregorio gave another amused laugh and the plane left the ground. The voice on the radio grew louder and angrier, ordering them to land immediately.

"Oh my gosh," moaned Amanda. "Mr. President, I know you don't want to be stressed but can you please put this plane back down very carefully and keep it level the whole way?"

"Why would I want to do that?" De Gregorio asked. "There is no freedom in flying like that."

Amanda closed her eyes and tried to speak slowly and clearly. "Because the cargo hold is full of poison gas and if this plane moves even a little in the wrong direction, you will spray it all over everyone on the ground and all through this plane."

De Gregorio turned his head slowly to look at her, eyebrows raised.

"Yes sir," said Amanda answering his silent question. "It really will. And there is a federal agent who is tied up down in the cargo hold who will explain everything if you will please just land, very, very carefully."

De Gregorio looked at Dean. "_Señor_ Maguire, please put your hands on the controls in front of you," he said in an eerily calm voice.

Dean did as he was told, then asked "Why?"

"Because I think I may be having one of my spells," remarked De Gregorio and almost immediately, slumped forward in his chair.

"No! No, no, no!" gasped Amanda, leaning forward and starting to tap his cheek. "No, don't pass out now."

De Gregorio gave a slight moan and his eyes fluttered open.

"What do I do? What do I do?" shrieked Dean.

"Just hold it steady until I get him more awake," ordered Amanda.

"Are you crazy?" screamed Dean. "Why are you even here with this crazy story? You're going to get us all killed!"

"I'm trying to keep us all from getting killed!" Amanda yelled over her shoulder as she continued to try and rouse the president. "Just keep us flying in a straight line!"

"I should have known this whole thing would go down like this when you showed up this morning," snarled Dean. "You are nothing but trouble! I told you not to butt in and save that idiot on the train platform and you almost got us both shot then too!"

Amanda stiffened and turned to stare at him. She opened her mouth to say something, then realized she had more important things to do and turned back to the President. "Sir? Sir? Are you feeling better? We really need your help to get this plane down."

De Gregorio looked at her blearily for a moment, then seemed to remember where he was. "Yes, yes, you are right, _señora_. We must land." He seized the controls in front of him. "But we do not have enough runway left to land now."

"Can you turn us around without banking the plane at all?" Amanda asked. "The men who locked us in the hold said that tilting the canisters would make them go off."

"Yes, I think so," said De Gregorio with a determined look. "But _Señor_ Maguire, I will need your help."

"I can't help fly a plane full of poison gas!" said Dean, a look of panic on his face. "I'm a weatherman, damn it, not a pilot!"

Amanda gaped at him. "Fine," she said, "Get out of the seat and I'll do it."

Now Dean was gaping. "Are you crazy? You don't know how to do it either!"

"Well, one of you has to," said De Gregorio urgently. "But you must do it quickly."

Dean began to wheeze and Amanda realized he was having one of his spells. When it became apparent he was frozen in place in his panic, Amanda grabbed him by the scruff of his coat and yanked. His tape recorder fell from his hands, clattering to the floor noisily which seemed to snap him out of it.

"Amanda!" he exclaimed angrily. "Look what you've done now!"

"Dean, either get out of the way or grab the controls," she ground out.

There was a beat, and Dean slouched ungracefully from the seat and slunk past her. Amanda slid into the vacant chair and tentatively placed her hands on the controller.

"Like this?" she asked, turning to look at the president with a fearful expression.

"That is excellent," he beamed. "But I will fly. You must get on the radio and tell the control tower what we are doing, yes?"

"Oh yes! I can do that!" Amanda grabbed the radio microphone, then looked blankly at it. "What do I tell them?"

De Gregorio chuckled, clearly enjoying himself now that his adrenaline was pumping. "Just repeat after me. Dulles Tower, this is San Cardenza Air Force One."

Amanda's brow wrinkled and she lowered the microphone without thinking. "Really, that's what you're going with? It seems like you're just-"

"Amanda!" shrieked Dean.

"Oh right!" said Amanda, hurriedly. She lifted the microphone again. "Dulles Tower, this is San Cardenza Air Force One."

There was a beat of silence and then the voice of an air traffic controller came on, clearly reining in his anger. "San Cardenza Air Force One… what is your flight plan?"

Amanda cocked an eyebrow at De Gregorio.

"We are circling and landing on the same runway," he said.

She repeated that and in the silence that followed, added "We're so sorry. There was a slight misunderstanding and the plane was never meant to take off and we're just going to stay at this height and -"

"Altitude," interrupted De Gregorio. "Not height."

"Sorry. At this altitude," said Amanda, nodding. "And we'll just be a few minutes and then there's a federal agent here who can explain the whole thing."

"You are not a federal agent!" yelled Dean.

"Not me!" said Amanda turning in her seat to glare at him. "I meant Lee – the one who's handcuffed in the cargo hold!"

"The one who's handcuffed…" Dean stared at her. "You're crazy."

"You seem like my kind of lady," said De Gregorio, jovially. "If you come visit San Cardenza, you must be sure to bring your handcuffs."

"I don't have…" Amanda trailed off, not wanting to distract him while he was flying. "I'm sure that would be lovely," she added, weakly.

Dean held out his tape recorder. "Look what you did! It's too broken to even be fixed!"

"I'm sure a big important news guy like you can get a new one from the station," said Amanda with waspish sweetness.

"And now you see?" said De Gregorio. "Here we are landing again."

Amanda turned to look out the front window and realized that they had in fact carefully circled Dulles and were bearing down on a runway.

"Please be careful," she begged. "There's still nerve gas in the hold."

"I am always careful in the presence of a lovely lady," Polo answered with great gallantry, then winked. "And even more when I am being watched by the press." He burst out laughing at his own joke, and continued to chuckle as he landed the plane and brought it to a slow stop.

"We will wait here," he announced. "I feel certain they will send a greeting party."

"I'm sure they will," agreed Amanda, standing up and pushing past Dean, headed to the back of the plane. She slid down the ladder and turned to look for Lee. The cargo hold was empty though, with one door dangling open. Amanda suddenly felt faint – had it opened during that short flight and Lee had fallen out? Even as she thought that, two hands grasped the edge and a beat later, the rest of Lee appeared as he pulled himself back up into the hold.

"Oh Lee! You're alright," she gasped, racing forward. "I thought you fell out!"

"Nothing that exciting," he grinned. "Once I got free, I decided I should try to disarm the trigger mechanism and once we landed, I thought we should get it away from the canisters."

"But you're okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. How about you? Are you alright?" he asked, taking hold of her upper arms and staring at her intently. "You're shaking – are you dizzy from your injury? Do you need to sit down?"

"I'm fine," she managed to laugh a little. "I'm just shaking because… that must have been the craziest five minutes I've ever had! The president fainted while he was flying because he has some brain condition and it was Dean had to keep the plane steady while I woke him back up and then he did and then Dean had an anxiety attack and then I helped land a plane! Me! That's crazy!"

Lee's jaw had slowly dropped open during the description until she rambled to a stop and then he clicked it shut. "You are amazing," he said, pulling her in for a brief hug, then stepping back, letting his hands slide down her arms until he held hers. "And you're right - I know you don't remember me or any of the things we've ended up doing together at the Agency, but you helping land a plane full of nerve gas is definitely the craziest." He squeezed her hands. "But you have always been brave and resourceful and I swear we'll do everything we can to help you even if you don't get your memory back."

Amanda stared at him wide-eyed. "But Lee, I -"

"No, I know, I know," he nodded, rapidly. "You'd have to do a bunch of training all over again, but I'd help you, lots of people at the Agency would help you, you need to know that. And you need to know that I need you – I need someone who keeps me on the straight and narrow and tells me when I'm going overboard and who cares that I get Christmas presents and who makes me laugh when she has hiccups because…" He trailed off, his eyes widening as the thought struck him. "Why didn't I think of that before?"

"Think of what before?" asked a bewildered Amanda.

"This," he said, pulling her forward and kissing her.

Lee poured everything he could into that kiss, willing her to remember that they had kissed before, willing her to remember anything, anything at all… willing her to remember him.

To his relief, after a brief squeak of surprise, Amanda had leaned into him, and kissed him back.

He pulled back and studied her. Amanda rocked back on her heels, eyes closed.

"Did that help?" he asked.

Her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him. "Help with what?" she asked.

"With your memory?" he asked.

"Oh!" Amanda shook her head slightly, as if she was trying to clear her head. "Well, no – it didn't help with that at all."

Lee gave off a frustrated noise and reeled her in again. This time there was no pause before Amanda was up on her toes, curling one arm around his body and lifting the other to run a hand through his hair. All too soon, they broke apart, breathing heavily and gazed at each other.

"I need you to remember me," he said, running his fingers down the side of her face. "Please remember me."

Ananda's hand slid down from his head to rest against his chest, where his heart was beating wildly. "Oh my gosh, Lee, I…"

"Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on here?"

Lee and Amanda both stiffened at the angry question from Dean and turned to look at him as he stood at the bottom of the ladder, glaring at them.

"You show up at my work, you follow me here, you trot out some cockamamie story about a nerve gas attack and now you're making out with some guy you don't even know?" Dean was in full cry now. "And I lost all of my interview when you dropped my recorder on the floor!"

"Cockamamie story?" Lee asked, his temper rising. "Amanda just saved most of northern Virginia from a political terrorist attack and you're complaining that she broke your damn tape recorder?" He took a step forward, hands clenched and an expression of his face that had Dean stepping back.

"Wait, what?" he looked from one to the other, his face slowly losing pallor. "That's real? The nerve gas? De Gregorio was going to kill us all?"

"Not him," said Amanda. "The San Cardenzan rebels."

"You mean, I'm right in the middle of some kind of political coup?" asked Dean. He stared at them in disbelief, then his face lit up. "Oh my God! This is the biggest story of the year! I'm going to be famous! I could win a Pulitzer!"

"Except you can't tell anyone," smirked Lee. "It's top secret. Oh yeah," he went on with great satisfaction as Dean's smile disappeared. "The government doesn't take kindly to reporters who plaster security lapses all over the front page."

"They…. They can't stop me!" blustered Dean. "We have freedom of the press in this country!"

"We do," allowed Lee, still with that menacing smile. "But they can also make it, shall we say, very uncomfortable for those members of the press who violate national security."

"Uncomfortable how?" asked Dean, uncertainly as Amanda turned away to hide her smile.

"Oh you know," said Lee, pretending to study his fingernails. "Refusing to give press credentials for events, nobody from your station in the White House press pool… IRS audits…"

"IRS audits?" repeated Dean, weakly.

"Oh yeah. They're very effective down at the audit department. You know their motto is "Everyone lies on their tax returns… and we catch every one of them eventually. Look at Al Capone."

Dean's whole body slumped in defeat. "I can't tell anyone about this? This could have changed my whole life! Started me on a new career!"

"I'm really sorry to hear that," said Lee, not managing to sound even slightly sincere.

"Uh, well, you know, Dean," interrupted Amanda, giving Lee a quick smile. "We can tell you this is national security and that it's top secret but we can't actually stop you from talking to President De Gregorio."

"Amanda!" growled Lee.

"No, Lee, really – we can't stop him from getting his big break with the scoop of the century and getting that great new job, can we?" She gave him a long meaningful look. "He can't say anything about exactly what happened here today, of course, because that would cause panic but if President De Gregorio is willing to talk to him and tell him how thankful he is for American help in combatting the rebels, and maybe how glad he is to be getting our help with his little problem too? Dean would be sure to get that position in Atlanta."

"What little problem?" asked Lee. Amanda nodded meaningfully at him and he suddenly remembered what she'd said about De Gregorio fainting.

"President Polo has a medical condition no one knows about," she said. "And Dean has the world's biggest career-making scoop."

She emphasized the last words just a little, just enough to prod Lee into thinking about how Dean would be almost 700 miles away if he got that job.

"Amanda's right," he said finally and with a great show of reluctance. "If the President wants to talk to you, we can't stop him. However," he held up a finger at the rising excitement on Dean's face. "You should run it past a lawyer at the Agency just to make sure you're not disclosing anything pertaining to national security that could land you in jail for treason. I suggest you follow Amanda's advice and not cause unwarranted panic about gas attacks or terrorists. Deal?"

Dean stared at him, then at Amanda, who nodded.

"You wouldn't like federal prison, Dean," she said solemnly. "And getting De Gregorio to talk to you will still be a scoop!"

Dean looked between the two of them. "Okay, it's a deal," he said. "You two were never here and none of this ever happened." He put out a hand and he and Lee shook on it. He turned to Amanda and grimaced. "I don't understand why you keep throwing yourself into dangerous things, but I'm certainly glad I never got that chance to propose. You're nuts."

"Why, you little-" snarled Lee, taking a step forward that sent Dean skittering back.

"Lee," said Amanda, grabbing his arm. "It's okay. It's not like I remember what I ever saw in him anyway." Lee paused as she smiled at him before she turned to look at Dean. "And maybe I am crazy, Dean, but someone has to be crazy enough to step in when other people won't. I suggest that if you're looking for your next story, you look into a thing called the Bystander Effect – you might learn a thing or two."

Dean nodded, too frightened of Lee to say anything else, before turning to climb back up the ladder, to go start interviewing the president.

Lee shook, his head with a look of disgust. "What a jerk."

At that moment, they realized they could hear the sounds of approaching sirens.

"The cavalry at last," quipped Amanda.


	7. Feet Back on the Ground

Lee walked over to the open cargo door and slid back down onto the tarmac, turning and reaching up to lift her down as well. They stood blinking in the sunshine, watching the police cars and fire engines circle around them. Francine launched herself out of an unmarked car and ran towards them. "Amanda?" she said in disbelief. "How on earth did you end up here? You need to get out of here! There's a bomb somewhere!"

"We know. And it's a long story about why I'm here," Amanda smiled at her. "You can read all about it in my report."

"But first, make sure none of these guys touch the plane!" Lee interrupted. "I got the trigger mechanism out so there's no danger from the plane but there are canisters of nerve gas in the hold that'll need to be secured."

Francine stared at him slack-jawed for a split second, then hightailed it over to the police officer in charge who began waving the emergency services back.

Within a few moments, a truck rolled up with a set of stairs that allowed the president and Dean to join them on the ground. President De Gregorio was immediately whisked off in an ambulance to be checked after his latest episode, but he cheerfully waved to Dean to accompany him.

"You know Dean's going to write that story so it looks like he helped get the plane down after Polo fainted, don't you?" asked Lee.

"Oh, yes, I know," said Amanda cheerfully. "But it won't really do any harm and it will keep the real story under wraps."

"I still don't know what you ever saw in him," grumbled Lee.

"Like I said, I can't remember now," laughed Amanda.

Lee turned to her, serious now, and took her hand. "I don't care that you can't remember that, but I wish I could help you remember everything else about your life – Phillip and Jamie, your work at the Agency… I wasn't kidding before. You're pretty amazing."

"And you thought you could just kiss me into remembering?" she teased him. "Like Sleeping Beauty?"

Lee shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. That was probably a bad idea. I was desperate and I thought it might help."

"Because you're just that good?" she asked, openly amused now. "One kiss and it would all just come flooding back?"

"Hey, it couldn't hurt," he offered in return.

"Well, it didn't help," she said.

"Not even a little?" Lee asked, disappointment audible in his voice.

"Well, not with my memory," she said. Her smile turned impish as she reached out to rest her hand on his chest again. "Tell me something though - why do you always threaten people with the IRS when you're trying to scare them?"

"Oh that's easy," he said, promptly. "People like Dean who are basically honest don't really take threats of prison seriously because they don't think they'll ever end up there. But everyone lies a little on their tax returns and they're always afraid of getting caught. I can't actually get the IRS to do anything, but guys like him don't know that."

Amanda's usual gurgle of laughter bubbled out of her at his response, and Lee stiffened with a sudden realization.

"Wait a second - what do you mean 'I always threaten people with the IRS'?"

"Well, you used it on Dean," she said, all demure now, "And you used it on that guy at Honeycutt Typewriters. I thought it must be something you do a lot."

"You remember that guy?" he asked, excitement rising. "And hang on – did you start to remember Francine just now? Have you started to remember other stuff? What else? What else do you remember?"

"Everything," she said simply. "It all came back."

Lee gaped at her, stunned. "You remember everything? Since when?"

"While I was trying to get the president to stop the plane," she replied. "I was trying to get through to him and tell him who you were and how we knew about the gas and then Dean started yelling at me about how I helped you the day we met and it just suddenly all came back to me!"

"And you didn't say anything?" he asked plaintively.

Amanda's grin got broader and she couldn't hide the laughter in her voice as she answered. "I was trying to, but you kept interrupting me and then the next thing I knew, you were kissing me."

There was a beat as he continued to stare at her. "You kissed me back," he said finally.

"Well, who wouldn't?" she teased. "You're a very good kisser. As you've proved more than once. I definitely remember that."

Lee began to smile. "But just now you said you couldn't remember Dean," he pointed out.

She huffed out a quiet laugh. "No, I said I couldn't remember what I ever saw in him and that's certainly true. I guess I'd never had an opportunity to really see how self-centered he is before we broke up."

"Why did you break up?" Lee asked, curiously. "He was with you the day we met and then I never saw him again."

"Well, that was your fault," she said, sounding very cheerful about it.

"My fault?"

"We had a huge fight about me helping you that day," she explained. "He thought I was crazy for getting involved and I thought he was a jerk for not getting involved."

"You were both right," Lee couldn't resist saying.

"I know," she agreed, laughing.

"And of all the things you could have remembered, you remembered him? Lee shook his head in disbelief.

"Well, the doctor at the hospital did say that amnesia is often associated with something emotionally complicated," Amanda said with a thoughtful look. "And you have to admit, you can't get much less emotionally complicated than Dean." She maintained the serious look for a beat before finally giving into a gurgle of laughter, eyes twinkling at him.

Lee slid his hand to the small of her back, and started to laugh as well as he moved them toward the phalanx of emergency vehicle. "Come on," he said. "Time to get you home."

"Oh my gosh!" she replied, turning to stare at him. "My mother! She must be frantic!"

"Don't worry, we took care of that," said Lee.

"You did? Of course you did. What did you tell her?"

"That you were delayed on a film shoot."

Amanda nodded, but before he could continue, there was a screech of tires as a truck pulled up and Cal jumped out, pacing toward them with a grin and a slight limp. "You two okay?" he asked. "How was your flight?"

"Unexpected," answered Lee, holding out his hand and shaking Cal's. "It's nice to be back on the ground."

"It was a little bumpy," said Amanda. "But that wasn't the plane's fault. I'm sure your plane is lovely when it's not being hijacked by terrorists. But how are you? Did you hurt yourself getting down from the roof?"

"Oh I'm fine," Cal brushed off her concern. "Landed a little funny that's all. Nothing serious."

"You did a great job getting help," said Lee. "Pity we got airborne before they could get there."

"Looks like you brought some people to the party as well," grinned Cal, waving around at the crowd surrounding the plane.

"Did anybody detain our rebel friends?" asked Lee.

"They sure did," cackled Cal. "Hope they enjoy those orange jumpsuits because they'll be in them for a while." He looked around at all the activity. "Is it true what they said? They were going to drop a bomb or something?"

Lee nodded, grim faced. "It's true – but we need you to keep that to yourself. This is all going to be a bit of a diplomatic nightmare."

"I can see that," Cal nodded. "And believe me, it won't do me any good if it comes out I was involved, even if it was as a victim." He spat on the tarmac. "Thank God you two showed up when you did."

"Well, I wasn't even supposed to be here," admitted Amanda.

"But you were, and this all would have ended pretty badly without you," said Lee, unexpectedly. "Whatever crazy thing got you here, your instincts were right."

"I do have a knack of being in the wrong place at the right time, I guess," she agreed with an embarrassed expression.

"I'd like to hear that story," grinned Cal. "But it's probably better if I don't, right?" He gave her a quick wink and reached to shake her hand. "I gotta go help them get this baby off the runway, but any time you want to come on a training flight or something, you just holler, okay? I owe you, big time."

Someone yelled in the distance. "I'm coming, hold yer horses!" Cal yelled back. "I mean it – any time you need anything, you come find me."

Lee and Amanda turned to watch him walk to the plane. The box with the nerve gas canisters had been loaded into an armored van and was being driven away by this time and most of the emergency vehicles were starting to pull away to head back to their stations.

"You know, I think it's more than a knack," commented Lee as they began to walk toward the Agency cars. "The way you ended up here was pretty odd, but I wasn't kidding when I said your instinct to follow Dean out here was right on the money."

"I can't believe I thought Dean Maguire was a spy!" she sighed with mortification. "All he wanted was a better job and I had him committing treason! I blame those painkillers they gave me at the hospital – the nurse said they might make me loopy but I still can't believe I was acting so crazy!"

Lee couldn't contain the snort of laughter. "We'll have to find out what they gave you and put that on your file in big red letters: susceptible to hallucinations."

"I wasn't hallucinating! I was just misinterpreting a few things!" said Amanda hotly. "It all made perfect sense in my head!"

"Well, whatever you were doing, I'm glad you were here to do it," said Lee, wrapping his hand around hers and giving it a quick squeeze. "And I'm very glad you're back to your old self."

"Mrs. King, Scarecrow – glad to see you both in one piece," said Billy, stepping out from the throng. "How are you, Amanda?" He paused, eyebrows twitching together in a slight frown. "I'm sorry – you might not know me, I'm -"

"Mr. Melrose," she completed it for him. "Yes Sir, I know, Sir – my memory came back, thank goodness."

"I am very glad to hear it," said Billy, with a broad grin. "You had a lot of people worried with your little disappearing act this morning. Where on earth did you go? And how did you end up here?"

Amanda opened her mouth to tell him, but Lee suddenly gave her hand a sharp squeeze. She turned to look at him and he gave a shake of his head.

"I…well, I…" she stammered. "Well, you see, I saw Dean on the television in my room and I saw the sign for Alabam in the background and it jiggled a memory and I just came out here to see if I could remember more! It was silly of me, I know – I should have called Lee or you right away but I guess with the bump on my head, I just wasn't thinking clearly…"

Lee relaxed as her ramble went on without her explaining her fantasy scenario that would have had her downstairs on Pfaff's couch in no time. He interrupted her before she could add too much detail to her fabrication. "And then I found her when I got here, and she pretty much saved the day as usual. It'll be in my report, Billy."

"Well, I'll look forward to getting the details," Billy answered, beaming. "Have it on my desk by the end of the day, Scarecrow, but first – take Mrs. King back to the Agency and have her call home, please? Mrs. West has been calling and we're running out of excuses about why she hasn't been in touch."

"Sure thing, Billy."

"Oh that's right! You were just about to tell me what you'd told my mother!"

"Well, like I said, we told her you were helping at a film shoot."

Lee steered Amanda around Billy and headed to the car where Francine was just turning away from a group of agents. Her face lit up as she saw them and she hurried forward before Lee could finish. "Amanda! Are you alright? I mean, do you know who I am?"

"I do," Amanda twinkled at her. "You were simply too unforgettable. I guess."

"So I've always been told," Francine answered, tossing her head dramatically. "But really? You're okay?" she went on, searching her face.

"I'm still a bit bruised but my memory is back," Amanda confirmed.

"Why did you leave the hospital?" Francine scolded her. "You scared us half to death!"

Amanda glanced uncertainly at Lee, who lowered his voice to answer.

"How about you drive Amanda back to the Agency?" Francine nodded and he went on. "She can tell you the whole story in the car; I'll follow you in the Porsche."

"I can?" Amanda asked. "The whole story?"

Lee nodded. "It's too funny for me to keep that to myself – but we'll need to coordinate the stories before I have to write that report for Billy this afternoon!"

"Coordinate your stories? What on earth did you do?" Francine looked from one to the other.

Amanda linked her arm through hers and began to walk. "Well, you know how I told you once that I used to have fantasies about secret agents?" She looked back over her shoulder and smiled as Lee began to laugh. "Well, those were nothing on what happened today…"

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay to drive the rest of the way?"

Lee had insisted on driving Amanda's car home for her but had stopped a few blocks away. Efraim had followed in another car to take him back to the Agency and was waiting as Lee helped Amanda out of the passenger side and walked with her to the driver's side door. She had just given off an enormous yawn and he was looking at her with concern.

She tossed her hands in the air. "Lee Stetson, not two hours ago, you were sending me up to a cockpit of a plane to stop a terrorist attack and now you think I can't drive a quarter of a mile in my own neighborhood?"

"Two hours ago, I had no other choice. Right now, I have the luxury of worrying about the state of your head again," he teased.

"Well, I'm fine – really," she answered. "I'm just tired that's all."

Lee instantly looked worried. "Maybe you're concussed. Maybe you should be under supervision. I don't think that doctor at the Agency clinic checked you carefully enough."

"Or maybe I just didn't get any sleep last night in the hospital last night and then ran around an airport all morning," she laughed, then stopped when she saw how worried he looked. "Lee," she said, resting a hand on his chest, "You know Dr. Kelford ran through all the concussion tests and said I was fine. I just need a day or two to take it easy. I'll be back to normal in a few days, okay?"

"Okay," Lee replied, unwillingly.

"But thank you for being worried and looking after me," she added.

"I should have looked after you better in the first place," he muttered. "And I shouldn't have left you alone at the hospital-"

"If you hadn't, you would never have stopped the gas attack this morning," she finished.

"You mean we wouldn't have," he corrected her. "I don't know what I would have done without you there."

"Well, thank you," Amanda answered, looking embarrassed at the praise.

"I mean, that's true a lot of the time, but you were really amazing today – calm, collected…"

"Crazy," she interrupted.

"Maybe a little," he conceded with a smile. "But I don't know many people who could have talked Polo De Gregorio into landing that plane again." He took her hands in his and stared at them for a moment before looking up, meeting her gaze. "I really am sorry about yesterday and overreacting to you talking about training. You really do have skills we can use, and I guess I just worry about you."

"Well, you have reason for that, given our history," she conceded. "But I worry about you too, you know." She reached up and lightly brushed a fingertip over the new bruise on his temple. "How hard did that guy hit in the plane? Maybe your brain got rattled too – you were crazy enough to send me up to try and stop the president from taking off, after all."

Lee tapped his head. "Scarecrow – no brains, remember? Nothing to rattle."

Amanda shook her head with a tsk-ing sound. "The scarecrow had brains all along – why do people always get that part wrong?"

"Doesn't matter," Lee laughed. "Anyway, this little bump is nothing."

"Yeah, you probably just need to find a pretty girl to kiss it better," said Amanda.

There was a moment of silence as her words hung in the air and they surveyed each other, both blushing.

"I'm, uh… sorry about that too," Lee offered finally. "I don't know what I was thinking. I mean, it worked for hiccups but- "

"Don't be sorry," she answered quickly. "Who knows? It might have worked and it was…"

Lee lifted an eyebrow as she paused.

"Nice," she said, finally. "Very nice," she amended when his other eyebrow went up as well. "Thank you," she added.

He couldn't help but grin at her and her never failing politeness. "You're welcome," he said softly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Her sense of humor had begun to surface again and she slapped him lightly on the chest before turning to get into the car, scarlet-faced.

"We'll follow you home," he said before she closed the door. "You know what they say about accidents happening close to home."

She nodded and pulled the door shut, but then suddenly recalled their unfinished conversations and rolled her window down. "Lee, wait!" she called to him, bringing him back to lean down, one hand resting on the door frame. "You never told me what you told my mother about where I was all night."

"Oh right." He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Well, we said you were helping on a film shoot."

"Yes, you told me that part."

"And then you were delayed getting home…"

"Yes?"

"By a tall handsome stranger who knocked you off your feet…"

"Mostly true," she grinned.

"And then he whisked you away for a torrid weekend," he added. "She was thrilled," he finished.

"Lee!" she poked him in the chest as he began to laugh, joining in as the full humor of it hit her.

"Okay, okay. We really did just say you were delayed and got stuck out there overnight. We didn't want to worry her until we knew if you were going to be okay."

"Oh," said Amanda. "Thank you. Thank you for not worrying her, and thank you for looking after me too," she went on gratefully.

Lee leaned in closer and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Well, thank you too." He smiled at her look of confusion. "Thank you for coming back to me, Kid."


End file.
